The Distance Between Us
by PrettyPoppy
Summary: Complete! Nineteen years after leaving Sunnydale, Spike encounters a startlingly familiar young woman fighting vampires in the alleyways of London – a young woman who holds the key to both his past and his future. A Spuffy future fic.
1. Chapter 1

Title: The Distance Between Us

Author: PrettyPoppy

Summary: Nineteen years after leaving Sunnydale, Spike encounters a startlingly familiar young woman fighting vampires in the alleyways of London – a young woman who holds the key to both his past and his future. A Spuffy future fic.

Rated: R

Author's Notes: Written for the Fall 2009 round of Seasonal Spuffy. In this fic, Spike leaves Sunnydale sometime between "As You Were" and "Entropy," so it doesn't follow canon after the middle of Season 6. I'm loathe to label this baby fic, but I suppose it technically is, even though the baby in this case is 18-years-old.

Distribution: Just let me know where it's going, and it's yours.

Disclaimer: Nope. I don't own Spike or Buffy. Everything belongs to Joss, Mutant Enemy, and whoever else has a legal right to it.

* * *

Chapter One

She was fast. Swift. With moves he hadn't seen in years. Like poetry in motion the girl, all honey-blonde hair and dark eyes.

Bloody hell, was she a slayer? _The_ Slayer? Something inside him broke. God, if she was the Slayer did that mean that . . . ? No, it couldn't be. Spike pulled in an unneeded breath and willed himself to relax. The slayer line wasn't hers anymore. It was Faith's. Did that mean that Faith was dead?

A kick, a punch, and then a desperate, but sure grab for something wooden and pointy. A broken piece of wood fallen from a nearby dumpster. With lightning fast speed she whirled around and stabbed her attacker. A perfect mark. Right through the heart. A moment later all that was left of the vampire was a big cloud of dust.

Spike stepped out of the shadows. "Nice work luv."

She swung around to look at him. "Who are you?"

"Déjà vu, huh?" Spike whispered, a rye smile pulling at his lips. He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his duster and cocked his head to the side, watching her with obvious curiosity.

"Excuse me?"

"Nothin' Pet."

Spike could tell from her accent that she wasn't a London native. She wasn't even British. She was an American. Californian to be exact. He'd recognize that accent anywhere. It haunted his dreams.

"So, who are you?" she asked, as she eyed him warily. Then, before he could say a word, she raised the stake in her hand once more as if her spidey senses had already given her the answer. "Vampire."

A slow smirk spread across Spike's lips. "Bravo. And I guess that would make you the Slayer?"

"The what?"

Spike paused for a moment, taken aback by the question. "The Slayer. As in, the Chosen One? You do have a watcher and all that rot, don't you?"

She tightened her grip on the stake in her hand and narrowed her eyes at him. "What exactly are you going on about?"

A disbelieving laugh escaped the back of Spike's throat. "Oh come on. You can't not know. You look like you've had plenty of practice, pet. You must have been doin' this for a while. No way the council hasn't gotten their hooks into you yet."

She rested her free hand on her hip and tilted her head to the side, skewering him with a suspicious gaze.

Spike had a momentary flashback to earlier times. To another slayer, who never hesitated to give him that very same look.

"Let me guess," she said, "this is your idea of flirting, isn't it? Well it won't work. I kill your kind." She took several determined steps toward him. "It's what I do. And I never fail."

A split second later she launched herself at Spike, but he easily sidestepped her assault. Before she could recover, he grabbed her arm and pulled her up against him, so that her back was pressed against his chest. He squeezed the stake out of her hand and bared his fangs close to her neck. "You wanna tell me again, how good you are at this?"

"Go ahead, do it," she rejoined, with false bravado. Spike could feel her body shaking almost imperceptibly. Her heart was beating an uneven rhythm and he knew she was truly expecting to die.

"So," he breathed out seductively against her neck, "you want me to kill you."

"Just do it. Make your conquest. Get it over with."

He was surprised to see her give up so quickly, but if she truly didn't have a watcher, didn't even know she was the Slayer, then obviously no one had ever taught her the tricks she needed for survival. Everything she had learned, she had apparently learned on her own.

"I don't know about you," he continued, "but I like to savor my kills." He slid his cheek against her neck and inhaled her scent. A flash of unbidden memories assailed his mind and without a second thought he let her go, his body retreating as if it had been burned.

That scent. It was her scent. It was Buffy.

Spike stared at the girl in front of him, his eyes cloudy and disbelieving. She slowly lowered herself to the ground to retrieve the stake, keeping her eyes warily locked with his the entire time. But she had nothing to fear. He had no intention of stopping her. He couldn't do anything but stare.

Buffy. She was Buffy's.

The girl rose once again to her full height and held her stake at the ready. "I'm going to ask you again, who are you?"

Spike's mouth opened, but no words came out. It took him a moment to remember just who the hell he was. "It doesn't matter," he croaked out, his throat painfully dry. "I'm no one."

Her gaze seemed to soften at his words, or at least they became more curious and less predatory. "Why did you let me go?"

Why did he let her go? Spike was afraid to say anything, afraid he would give too much away. But he had to know. He had to know who she was. For certain.

"Your mum saved my life once. I'm just repayin' the favor."

"My mother? How do you know my mother?"

A small smirk crept across Spike's lips. "Let's just say, we worked together once."

"Are you a shrink?"

"What?"

"My mother, she's a psychologist. You said you worked with her."

"Right, right, um . . . no, this was before. Before you were born."

"At the Double Meat Palace?"

Spike couldn't help but laugh. There was no way in hell he would ever have been caught dead – or undead – working at the Double Meat Palace. But at least now he knew that he hadn't made a mistake. This had to be Buffy's daughter.

"It was before that actually. Look pet, it doesn't matter. Point is, I know your mum. Couldn't very well do you in, now could I?"

"You don't know my mother. You're bluffing." The determination had returned to her voice, but she made no attempt to move closer.

"Oh am I? So your mother isn't Miss Buffy Anne Summers?"

The girl's face turned a particularly fetching shade of pale and Spike wanted to laugh again.

"What do you want with me?" she queried, her voice trembling slightly. She unconsciously lowered the stake, but kept it gripped tightly by her side.

"I want to know what the hell you think you're doing out here, in the middle of the night, by yourself, hunting vampires?"

"I don't have a choice."

"So you are the Chosen One."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not the _chosen_ anything. A couple of months ago, I was dating this guy. And on the way home from a club one night, he told me he wanted to show me something back at his dorm room."

"And you bought that line?"

"I didn't buy that line," she said snidely. "I told him I had an exam to study for and had to get home early. And he said after he was through with me, I wouldn't have to worry about exams anymore. The next thing I knew, his face had turned all bumpy, he'd grown fangs, and he was trying to bite me."

"So what did you do?"

"I screamed."

"And then what did you do?"

"I . . . ," she sighed heavily, "I grabbed a pencil out of my bag and stabbed him in the chest. Not exactly my finest moment."

Spike smiled. Instinct. It must be instinct. Maybe this girl wasn't the Slayer, but slaying was in her blood.

"Did you tell your mum about this?"

"Hell no! Are you crazy? She'd think I was nuts! She'd think I was having some kind of psychotic delusion. She'd never believe me. Not in a million years. She'd have me on anti-psychotics before you could say 'Bram Stocker.'"

"Have you told anyone?"

"Who could I tell? No one would believe me. So, I've been out here every night, using myself as bait; trying to get as many of them as I can. Speaking of which," she raised the stake once more, "you want to give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you, you evil, miserable vampire?"

"Because I'm drop dead sexy?" he replied with a sardonic smile.

"Try again."

"Because, just like you, I'm here to fight the good fight."

"Come again?"

"I hunt my own kind."

Now she smiled. "You hunt your own kind? You really expect me to believe that? All vampires are evil. This I know for a fact."

"How do you know it luv? How?"

"Well," she faltered, "they just are."

"You've been watching too many late night movies," Spike said, as he causally moved toward her and slipped his fingers around the stake. It was out of her hand before she could protest. "Now, there's really no need for this, is there?" Spike threw the stake in a nearby dumpster, leaving the girl before him without a weapon. "You have a lot to learn about vampires pet. And I'm going to teach you."

"Oh really?" she asked archly, obviously trying to cover up her newfound vulnerability with sheer chutzpah. "And what could you possible teach me?"

Spike allowed his eyes to travel down the length of her. So much like her mother.

A pang of uneasiness gripped at Spike's chest. She was a beautiful girl, but somehow, looking at her as anything more than Buffy's little girl, just felt dirty and obscene. And not the good kind of dirty and obscene either. The bad, bad, pedophilia kind. Spike shook himself and forced his gaze back to hers.

"You have a lot to learn about vampires. And a lot to learn about slaying. I know everything there is to know. I can teach you."

"Why would you do that?" she asked in obvious challenge.

"Because I don't like watching helpless little girls get killed in dark alleyways, because they think they're a lot stronger and tougher than they really are."

"I know what I'm doing."

"Right. Which is why I had my fangs against your neck only moments ago. I don't think so pet. I think you have a lot to learn."

"Why do you kill your own kind?"

Spike wanted to laugh, but he forced it down his throat. It would have sounded far too bitter for him to have easily explained. "I loved a slayer once. She changed me. Woulda done anything for her. Anything."

Spike knew that the truth of his words was visibly reflected in his eyes. There was no way for him to hide it. And the girl in front of his was obviously moved. She couldn't tear herself away from his gaze.

"What happened to her?" she whispered softly, as if she feared treading dangerous ground.

"Don't rightly know." Spike stepped away, the closeness getting to be too much for him. "She chose another. I walked away and never looked back."

"That's so sad."

"Yeah, well, don't need your pity. Just need to know that you'll work with me, instead of against me. What do you say, luv? We have a deal?"

She eyed him warily for a moment, as if weighing her options. "All right," she finally conceded. "But on one condition."

"What's that?"

"From now on, I get to keep my stake. I don't trust you, and I'd like to at least have some kind of protection."

"Fair enough. What's your name pet?"

"Willow."

Spike smirked. "Named for your Aunt Willow, huh?"

"And my father."

"What?"

"My father. My mother never told me much about him. I don't even know his last name. All I know is, his first name is William, and I'm named for him."

Spike's whole body suddenly flushed cold. He completely lost the power of speech.

"So, what's your name?"

"What?" Spike hadn't quite heard her. His brain was still back on her father. William? Her father's name was William? What the bloody hell did that mean?

Spike had known that Buffy was pregnant when he'd left Sunnydale nineteen years earlier. It was the reason he had left. He had known that he couldn't be the father, and so he had just assumed that it was Riley. After all, Captain Cardboard had miraculously reappeared just a few weeks before Spike had found out about the baby. It had been the logical conclusion to draw. Spike had known that it was only a matter of time before Buffy discovered the truth and went after Riley, ensuring a lifetime of blissful togetherness for the Slayer and her Soldier Boy.

Of course Spike had known about the baby long before Buffy ever had. He was a vampire, after all. He had been able to hear the faint heartbeat, beating along with Buffy's, even when she was only a couple of weeks along. He'd never even told her that he knew. He'd simply been unable to face her. And so, the night he had realized that Buffy was lost to him forever, he had disappeared without a word.

Spike didn't know why Buffy had told this girl that her father's name was William. Maybe she had been forced to lie because Riley was still Special Ops and she wanted to protect their daughter's identity. Whatever the reason, Buffy had lied. Why she had chosen the name William, Spike would never know. It seemed like some kind of cruel, twisted joke.

"What's your name?" Willow repeated.

"Uh, Spike," he provided absently.

"Spike?" A cocky smile spread across her lips. For a moment, it felt eerily familiar to him. A little too much like his own.

"Yeah, as in, enjoys driving railroad spikes through people's heads. That kind of spike."

She wrinkled up her nose in distaste. "Are you sure I shouldn't just kill you now?"

Spike was barely listening. He was still lost deep in thought.

"Spike?"

The way she said his name was like a stake straight to his heart. It pulled Spike out of his reverie and brought him back to the moment at hand.

"So," she said, "are we gonna do this or not?"

"Yeah. 'Course. But I think there's been enough drama for one night. Meet me at Highgate Cemetery at midnight."

"The cemetery at midnight? Don't you think that's a little cliché?"

"Make it one then. Just be there." He started to walk away, but stopped just before he reached the end of the alley. "Do you have any stakes? Any real ones?"

"I have a few left. They never last very long when I'm out hunting."

"Patrolling," he corrected.

"What?"

"Oh never mind. Just bring what you have. You're going to need all the help you can get."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The walk back to her campus dorm that night was an unsettling one for Willow. After Spike had left her, she had scrounged around the alley, looking for another makeshift stake. She had found half a broken two-by-four and carried it with her all the way home. As she walked, she couldn't help but wonder about the mysterious man – no, make that vampire – whom she had met in the alleyway.

He was, without a doubt, the most beautiful man she had ever set eyes on. She didn't normally think of vampires as beautiful, no matter what Anne Rice or Stephanie Meyer had to say on the subject. Until tonight, every vampire she had met had looked pretty normal, ordinary even. But not Spike. He was beautiful, angelic; with crystal blue eyes, bleached blond hair, and the most impossibly high cheekbones she had ever seen. If she'd been any less sensible a girl, she'd risk falling in love with him. He was like something out of a gothic novel, and Willow couldn't help but be intrigued.

And he knew her mother?

Willow shook her head absently, trying to make the thought sink in as she entered her dorm room. She couldn't believe that her mother had ever been friends with a vampire. Of course, if she really thought about it, he probably hadn't been a vampire then. He had said before she was born, so that had to have been at least eighteen years ago. No doubt he was just a nice guy who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Willow shrugged out of the clothes she was wearing and slipped into bed, without bothering to turn the lights on. She was lucky. She had her own room and didn't have to worry about waking a roommate with the strange hours she kept. But hunting every night – or, patrolling, as Spike had called it – was really taking its toll on her. She had classes during the day, workstudy in the evenings, and then patrolling at night. She was beginning to feel like the walking dead herself. Plus, it wasn't exactly easy living in a foreign country. Even if she did speak the language. She was always terribly homesick.

Just as Willow was about to fall asleep, the phone rang. She groaned as she peered at the digital alarm clock on the nightstand – 1:30am. Willow groped for her cell phone and answered on the third ring. "Hello?"

"Hi sweetheart. Did I wake you?"

It was her mom. Willow pushed herself up in bed and leaned against the headboard. "No, I was just getting to sleep now. Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"It's only 5:30."

"Maybe in Sunnydale. But it's after one here."

"Oh, I thought it was late. I didn't realize how late. I figured you'd be awake though. I was a college student once myself, you know."

"Yes, I'm well aware." Willow sighed, trying not to be frustrated with her mother, but failing miserably. "Is there a reason you called this late?"

"No. I just miss you, that's all. I just got home from work and I'm not really used to the house being empty. I thought I'd give you a call, just to hear a friendly voice."

"I'm sorry mom. I know how hard it is for you since I left and Aunt Dawn and Uncle Xander moved to New York."

"It's all right. I get by. I don't want you to worry about me sweetheart, I'm fine."

But Willow knew that she wasn't fine. Her mother had lived her entire life for her family, always sacrificing for their happiness. She had never tried to find happiness for herself. Now that they were all gone, she was lonely and unfulfilled and Willow wished there was something she could do for her.

And then she remembered something.

"Mom, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, Will. You know you can ask me anything."

"Did you ever know a guy named Spike?" Willow waited for her mother to reply, but there was no sound on the other end of the phone. "Mom? Are you still there?"

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

Willow paused for a moment. She knew her mother had heard her. It may have been an international call, but the reception was superb. Why did she sound so strange all of a sudden?

"Spike. Do you know anyone named Spike?"

"Spike?" Buffy laughed. "That's a funny name. Almost as funny as Angel or Cordy or Giles."

"Giles isn't a funny name. Besides, it's a last name, so it hardly counts. So, do you know him?"

"Who?"

"Spike."

"Spike. Let me think about it. Um . . . yeah I seem to remember someone named Spike. Yeah, he was some guy I met when I was in high school. God, I haven't heard that name in years."

Willow wasn't buying it. Even if it had been twenty years since her mother had laid eyes on this guy, there was absolutely no way she could ever have forgotten him. Willow had only known him for an hour or so, and already she knew that Spike was the kind of guy you simply couldn't forget.

"Do you want to try that again?" Willow prompted, refusing to let her mom just blow it off.

"Try what again?" Buffy asked, putting on her best dumb blonde act.

"Spike. How do you know him? And don't tell me he's just some random guy you knew twenty years ago, back when you were in high school. He said you saved his life once."

"Only once? More like half a million . . ."

Buffy trailed off and Willow knew that she had her.

"You wanna explain that?"

Again there was silence on the other end of the line. It took a full thirty seconds before Buffy replied. "He was a friend. A very good friend. We got into a couple of scrapes together, and we were always there to bail each other out. I didn't really realize it at the time though. He was there for me a lot more than I was there for him."

"Were you ever . . . involved?" Willow wasn't sure she really wanted to know. If her mom had ever dated Spike, it would mean she couldn't even think of having a crush on him. But she had to know.

"We . . . were . . . briefly involved," Buffy managed. "It wasn't serious."

"How not serious was it? Did you guys ever—?

"You said you saw Spike?" Buffy asked, cutting her off. "Where? When?"

"Tonight."

"And he approached you?"

"Yeah. We . . . um, met at a club. You know, saw each other across a crowded room, that kind of thing. He noticed my accent and I told him I was from Sunnydale. And well, one thing led to another and—"

"I hope one thing didn't lead to anything!" Buffy interjected, a surprising note of panic in her voice.

"No, eww mom. Do you think I really would go with some guy that you dated? That's just gross."

"Well, we didn't exactly date."

"What?"

"Nothing. The point is, you didn't know any of that until just now. Please tell me that nothing happened. That absolutely nothing happened."

"Absolutely nothing happened. Geez mom, you know I'm not that kind of girl. I don't just hook up with random strangers in clubs you know. I'm not Aunt Faith."

She heard her mother try to stifle a laugh on the other end of the phone.

"Look Will, I'm just trying to look out for you. Spike can be incredibly persuasive when he wants to be. I just need to know that you'll stay away from him. That's all."

"Why do I have to stay away from him? He's your friend after all. Is it so terrible for me to have a friendly face to talk to every once in a while? I haven't made too many friends here. And Spike's kind of nice."

Now Buffy did laugh. "If Spike's passing for nice now, then you really do have to worry." Buffy sighed. Suddenly her voice grew very quiet. "Did he say anything about me?"

"Not much. Just that you had once worked together and that you saved his life. That's it."

"Of course."

Was that regret she heard in her mother's voice?

"Did he say where he's been for the past twenty years? What he's been up to?"

"No. He wasn't very forthcoming with annoying little things like facts. Mostly it was just a lot of posturing and flirting."

"Yeah, that's Spike alright. All swagger and seduction."

"Do tell."

A small laugh escaped Buffy's throat. "Trust me, you're not old enough to know."

"I'm eighteen."

"Even when you're a hundred and two you won't be old enough. Trust me."

"That good, huh?"

"Willow!"

Willow laughed. It was fun scandalizing her mother. Nothing ever really fazed her, so it was nice to finally find something that did.

"Promise me you won't see him again."

"I can't."

"Of course you can. Just say the words and then don't go near him again."

"I doubt it's going to be that easy. He kind of strikes me as the type of guy who doesn't know how to take no for an answer. Even if I don't seek him out, he'll find me."

She heard her mother sigh.

"Promise me you won't sleep with him."

"Mom!"

"Willow Joyce, promise me."

"Alright, I promise."

"Good. Well, I guess I should let you get some sleep. I'm sure you have classes tomorrow, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Goodnight then, sweetheart."

"Goodnight mom. I love you."

"I love you too."

Willow slid her phone closed and put it back on the nightstand. She sat for a very long time, staring out into the darkness of her room, wondering what was really going on. So her mom and Spike had been more than coworkers, considerably more than friends even. He wasn't . . .?

Willow shook herself. No. There was no way that this Spike guy was her father. She would have heard about him, if he was. Someone, somewhere, sometime would have let the name slip. Aunt Dawn or Uncle Xander; neither one of them could be trusted with a secret. Surely someone would have said something.

Willow pushed herself off the bed and turned on the lights. She shuffled over to the mirror above her dresser and peered at herself curiously, looking for any resemblance between herself and the vampire she had just met a few hours before.

Her hair was a little darker than her mother's, but her mom was always dying hers different shades of blonde anyway, so that was no way to tell. Spike's hair was bleached too. So there was no way to make a comparison on his side either. She had her mom's hazel eyes though, and her pert nose, there was no doubt about that.

Willow trailed her fingers over her lips and wondered, if perhaps, they resembled Spike's in any way. She couldn't tell. She certainly didn't have his cheekbones. Maybe she was just fooling herself. She had no idea how many men had been in her mother's life before her father had come along. It was something they never talked about. All she knew was that there had been no one since, and her mother had lived a very lonely life.

Willow turned off all the lights and returned to bed. She'd see Spike again in less than twenty-four hours. Maybe then she'd get some answers.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

When Buffy hung up the phone, her heart was racing, her palms were sweaty, and she felt just the tiniest bit faint. Spike. She'd thought she would never hear that name again. After he'd left, after she'd found out that she was pregnant, her friends and family had never mentioned his name again. It was better that way. Maybe it had been the pregnancy hormones, but back then, every time she had heard his name, she'd cried.

He'd left her right after Riley had. At the time, she hadn't even realized it, but losing Spike had made losing Riley pale in comparison. Of all the people she had ever known, including her mother and Dawn, Spike was always the one she had thought would be there forever. Of course, he was a vampire, so he pretty much had forever to stay by her side. But it was more than that. Whether she had wanted to recognize it at the time or not, Spike had always looked at her with the kind of undying devotion that promised eternity. And then, suddenly, he was gone. And all she could feel was the overwhelming pain of his abandonment.

He hadn't come to her. Hadn't said goodbye. He'd just disappeared.

Buffy had known, instinctively, that he wasn't dead, that he hadn't been staked or done in by some traveling pack of werewolves. She had known, deep in her heart, that he was alive. And that he had just left her. Abandoned her like everyone else she had ever loved.

And that had been the hardest truth of all for her to face, admitting that she loved him. It had taken a long time for her to be able to admit it to herself, but by the time Willow had been born, there was no denying it.

Buffy didn't know how Willow had come into existence. Spike was a vampire, pregnancy was not supposed to be an option in their relationship. And yet, somehow, it had happened. Eighteen long years later, they had still never figured out the reason, but it didn't really matter anymore anyway. When Willow had been old enough to start comprehending what was going on around her, Buffy had given up slaying, and had left that life behind for good.

Now, instead of patrolling, she spent her nights at home, going over the case files of her patients and taking care of the little day to day things that always cropped up here and there. She missed slaying, but had decided a long time ago that her child deserved a normal life – the life that Buffy had never had – and that she would do everything within her power to give it to her. Even if it meant abandoning her calling and living a normal, ordinary life.

Buffy entered the kitchen and put the teakettle on to boil. She could barely breathe. Maybe some herbal tea would calm her nerves.

She got out a teabag and cup and stood by the stove, watching the kettle. Seeing it, but not seeing it. Her mind was five-thousand miles away, in London. Where Spike and Willow were.

Willow had been right about Spike. She had apparently only met him once, and already she knew that he was not the type to take no for an answer. At least, it took him a long time to get the message. A very long time. Buffy secretly wished that he had never gotten that message from her. Why had he given up so easily? Why had he just left when she needed him the most?

A piercing whistle rent the air and Buffy blinked curiously at the kettle. It took her a moment to come back to reality and realize where she was.

She poured the tea and sat down at the center island. Although she had lived in the house for the twenty years since her mother's death, it was anything but outdated. Xander, who had somehow or another become her brother-in-law – she still hadn't figure that one out – had done wonders for the place with his construction business. He always gave Buffy a huge discount. And once he had started sleeping with her sister, everything was free. There really was nothing like pimping out your baby sister for a little free construction work. Buffy had tried to protest, but Xander had insisted, and it had all worked out in the end.

And now Spike was back. Roaming around London, somehow stumbling upon her daughter. Their daughter. How long would it be before he found out? Willow knew that her father's name was William. All Spike had to do was a little digging, to figure it out. And how long before Willow realized that there was something not-quite-normal about Spike? Buffy had spent the past eighteen years trying to keep the truth from her daughter. Trying to raise her in a world that was safe and vampire-free. But what if she found out? What if, after all these years, she discovered the truth that Buffy had tried to shelter her from?

Buffy clutched her cup more tightly in her hand, hoping, somehow, that the small bit of ceramic would ground her, keep her from falling apart. She wondered if she should go to London and confront Spike.

No, she decided. She couldn't do that. Wouldn't do that. He had left her nineteen years ago. He had kept himself off the radar ever since – a difficult task for a vampire as notorious as William the Bloody. He definitely didn't want to see her. And she didn't want to see him. Not now, not ever.

At least, that was what she had spent the last nineteen years telling herself.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

"No, no. Oh bloody hell," Spike sighed. "You don't wanna do 'em in so fast."

Willow wiped the fresh vamp dust off of her jeans and glared at Spike. "And why not? If the goal is turn him into a big pile of dust then, hey, goal accomplished." She stuck her stake in her back pocket and then swiped her hands together a couple of times for good measure. "So, how about we call it a night?"

Spike flicked his cigarette out into the darkness and jumped off the tombstone he'd been sitting on. He gave Willow a disapproving look. He felt like he was playing watcher, and he hated it. The more trouble she gave him, the more he felt like Rupert Giles running after Miss Buffy Summers. Bloody hell.

"The goal, luv, is to train you," Spike countered. "Not to finish off your sparring partners as soon as they push their way out of the ground. Granted, London has its fair share of vamps, but this ain't the bleedin' hellmouth. Don't exactly have an endless supply here."

"What's a hellmouth?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Yes I would," she said brashly, as she straightened her shoulders and met his gaze head on.

He was struck by how vibrant her eyes were. They sparkled with challenge, just the way her mother's always had. He had to fight to keep his emotions in check and his mind focused on their training.

"Well," he rejoined, as if nothing were amiss, "maybe if you do some actual training tonight, I'll tell ya. _If _you actually do some training. You got that?"

"Yeah, I got it. But I don't see any more vamps around, so what am I supposed to do?"

He smirked at her. "Why, fight me of course."

And before she could react, Spike grabbed her, the same way he had the previous night. He held her close and bared his fangs against her neck. Her heart was beating fast, but he could tell that it was just the adrenaline pumping through her veins. The fear that had been present the previous night was gone.

"If I wanted to kill you right now, I could. You're defenseless. No one's ever taught you how to fight. I'm going to teach you. I want you to do everything I say."

She nodded her head obediently, like a little girl taking instruction from a parent. A pang of something oddly uncomfortable stabbed at Spike's chest. Was it jealousy? Was it loneliness? He wasn't this girl's father. She had a father somewhere. But it wasn't him. He'd have to stop thinking of her as his charge, as a little girl who needed his protection. She was a full-grown woman and he was just showing her the ropes. That was all.

Spike swallowed the uneasiness in his chest and focused on instructing her. He led her through some of his favorite moves; showed her how to get the upper-hand, even when she had been rendered virtually immobile. She caught on quickly, and before he knew it, they were sparring on pretty even ground.

"Like mother, like daughter, huh?" Spike said as he stopped to catch an unneeded breath.

"What was that?" Willow's head shot up and she stared at Spike as if he'd just grown six heads.

"Uh, nothin'. Nothin' at all pet. Let's get back to work."

Spike prepared for battle once more, but he could see that Willow wasn't having it. She was staring at him.

"What?" Spike spluttered in exasperation.

"What do you mean, like mother, like daughter? Has my mother ever done . . . this?"

Spike tried to wave it off. "Nah. You're mum's never done anything like this. Doesn't even know that vampires exist. That wasn't what I meant."

"What did you mean?" Those eerily familiar hazel eyes narrowed in on him and he had the unholy urge to crawl out of his skin.

"Things weren't always so good between your mum and me. We fought. A lot."

Willow shook her head. "It's not the same thing. Not by a long shot."

"Wish that were true. Your mum has a violent streak, whether you've seen it or not. Maybe she's over it. Maybe it was only ever reserved for me. But I've seen her at her worst. Buffy Summers can fight."

Willow was quiet for a moment, and Spike silently prayed that she wasn't putting two and two together. There was no reason for her to know that her mother was the Slayer. If Buffy had chosen to keep that from her, perhaps she had good reason. Then again, if Buffy had just told her the truth from the beginning, she wouldn't be in danger now. She'd have been prepared since birth to fight demons. She wouldn't have to undergo this trial by fire. Her life would have been a lot different and she would have been better prepared for the truth.

"You wanna get back to training, huh?"

"I . . . I think I've had enough for one night, if that's all right."

She seemed pensive, morose even. Maybe she was just unhappy to find that she really didn't know her mother at all.

"Fine then. Tomorrow night? Same bat time? Same bat channel?"

"Huh?" She seemed a million miles away, but quickly remembered herself. "Yeah. Tomorrow."

"Why don't I walk you home pet."

Willow nodded absently and began walking toward the entrance of the cemetery. Spike quietly fell in step beside her.

"I didn't mean to make you question your mum," he said, feeling the need to ease her confusion somehow. "I've nothin' bad to say about Buffy. Nothin' at all. Don't think I hold anything against her, 'cause I don't."

"Were you in love with her?"

The question surprised him and he stopped dead in his tracks. Willow stopped a few feet in front of him. He looked up to meet her eyes. He knew there was no denying the truth. When it came to his feelings, when it came to love, he was a terrible liar.

"You were, weren't you?" she whispered, a curious tone to her voice.

"That was a long time ago, but yeah."

"But you said you loved a slayer, didn't you?"

The air caught in Spike's lungs and his chest hurt painfully. Yes, he had said that, hadn't he? Oh bollocks.

"It's possible for a man to love more than one woman in his lifetime. Especially a vampire. Your mother was not the only woman I have ever loved."

"Oh," was Willow's quiet reply. She almost sounded disappointed.

Spike didn't feel the need to clarify that the love he felt for Buffy surpassed all others. Willow didn't need to know that. It was better that she think Buffy was just one among many. It was safer that way.

"Do you still love her?" Willow asked from out of nowhere.

This time, Spike casually averted his gaze and started walking again. If he wasn't looking her directly in the eye, he could definitely lie to her. "Nah. That's ancient history. Been a long time since I even thought about your mum. It's just seeing you that brings it all back again."

"Are we very much alike? In your opinion?"

Spike smiled. "Yeah. Too much alike. You're practically her spittin' image. Especially at that age. How old are you, anyway? About eighteen?"

"Yeah. How'd you know?"

"Just a guess," Spike said somberly.

"So, you knew her when she was my age?"

"Yeah. Met her when she was sixteen."

"How old were you?"

Spike tried to do the math in his head, tried to figure out what an appropriate answer would be. He decided that an answer of "Eighteen" would do quite nicely.

"So how old were you when you were turned?"

This question he could answer honestly. "Twenty-six."

"Wow, so you lived a pretty full life and then one day, zap, you get turned into a vampire. That sucks. No . . . pun intended, of course," she added awkwardly.

"You're wrong about that pet. Bein' turned was the best thing that ever happened to me. I wasn't living until I was dead. You don't want to know what kind of man I was before."

"But you were the man who loved my mother, so you couldn't have been all bad."

Spike felt another uncomfortable pang in his chest. Yes, it was William that loved Buffy, wasn't it? That sappy, pathetic part of himself that loved wholeheartedly, even at the expense of his own happiness. Yes, she was right. Damn astute girl.

"Is there any chance . . . well, that you're my—?"

"Don't say it." Spike instantly broke out of his private musings. "It's not possible. I can't have kids."

"What are you, impotent?"

Spike nearly choked. For the very first time since he'd met her, he felt the overwhelming urge to strangle her. "The word is 'sterile.' Not 'impotent.' Don't go throwin' that word around. It's liable to get you in a lot of trouble where men are concerned."

She smiled mischievously, obviously proud of herself for having been able to rankle him. "Oh, I think my mother would kind of like that idea. She's always warning me about men. I think she's secretly happy when my relationships fall apart even before they've begun. You know, she warned me about you."

Spike gave her a sidelong glance. "Did she now?"

"Oh yes, she even made me promise I wouldn't sleep with you."

Willow's smile grew wider and Spike again found his feet failing him. He stopped dead cold.

"What?"

"Mm hm," she mumbled, nodding her head. "She made me promise."

"You told her about me?"

"Of course. You didn't tell me not to and I don't keep secrets from my mother."

"Oh right, except for the big, whopping one about being a vampire slayer."

"Hunter. Not a slayer. I still don't know what a slayer is."

"Hunter. Slayer. It doesn't matter. You shouldn't have told her." Spike ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "Bollocks. What am I going to do now?"

"About what?"

"Nothin'." Spike inhaled a girding breath. "I know I'm gonna regret this but, did she say anything about me?"

Willow laughed to herself, as if she took some special kind of glee from his question. "Um, not much. She just asked if you had said where you'd been for the past twenty years, that's all. And then she made me promise not to sleep with you. She was emphatic about that, which is why I thought maybe you were my—"

"Don't!" He held out a hand in an unconscious effort to stop her. "Don't say it. It's not possible. I told you that already."

"I know. What man would admit to being impotent—"

"Sterile," he corrected through gritted teeth.

"Right. Sterile. What man would admit to being sterile unless he had to? Unless it was the truth? I have to admit, I am a bit disappointed though."

She started walking again and Spike followed suit.

He eyed her curiously. "Disappointed? Why?"

"I don't know. I think it might be kind of cool to have a vampire for a father, that's all."

Spike refused to comment. He walked Willow back to her dorm, said goodnight, and got out of there as fast as he could.

So Buffy knew. What the bloody hell did that mean? Should he run? Should he get out of London as fast as he could, before she hopped a plane and decided to give him a piece of her mind? Or should he stay put, and face up to the demons that had been haunting him for the past nineteen years?

For nearly two decades he had been traveling the world, doing penance, trying to make up for his crimes. At least, that's what he had told himself. The truth was, he was running from her. He didn't want to know. He didn't want to see her. He didn't want to know how wonderfully happy she was without him. He was a selfish bastard, but that was okay. He had every right to be. Being selfish was just about the only thing he had left.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

The training continued for the next few weeks. Surprisingly, there was no word from Buffy. Of course Spike was sure that she had called Willow, just to touch base, as mothers so often do. But she hadn't shown up on his doorstep, demanding answers, demanding anything. Spike refused to acknowledge any sense of disappointment. Obviously Buffy had better things to do with her time than track him down. Obviously she was too happy in her own life to care about revisiting the past. No, he wasn't disappointed at all.

They had found a new cemetery to patrol; a newer one, with a lot more vamp activity. Spike had intensified Willow's training, teaching her to fight multiple vamps at once, keeping her out until all hours of the morning. She complained _a lot_. Sometimes Spike found himself secretly admiring Giles for what he'd been able to accomplish with Buffy, now that he knew, firsthand, how hard it was to wrangle a teenage girl. And then, a second after that thought would cross his mind, he'd mentally flog himself for ever feeling anything close to admiration for the poncey watcher.

"So, how was that?" Willow asked, after she'd dusted off yet another fledgling. "Not bad, huh?"

"Not good either," Spike replied from his perch on a nearby tombstone. "You're still being sloppy. That one came too close to biting your pretty little neck, luv."

Willow shrugged it off. "You told me to have fun with them. I was just trying to have fun. Give him a thrill before ending his poor, miserable life."

"I said you should toy with them, not take them on a bleedin' holiday." Frustrated, Spike jumped off the tombstone and stalked toward her. "There are some risks it's not worth taking. You got that?"

"Yeah," she said quietly, like a petulant child, "I got that."

"Good. Now let's get back to work."

For the next few hours they worked on basic drills. Then, at about 3a.m. they got their first real challenge of the night. A gang of vamps – seven in all – stumbled in from off the street. Apparently they'd been out carousing and thought it might be fun to do the cliché thing and haunt a cemetery at the devil's hour. It was just the kind of challenge Willow needed to hone her skills.

They were a rough looking bunch, but nothing Spike couldn't handle. He whispered a few last minute instructions to Willow as the vamps approached.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" the apparent leader of the gang asked. He looked pointedly at Spike. "Anyone ever tell you the Billy Idol look went out in the '80s."

"Hey, I'll have you know—"

"Billy Idol stole his look from Spike," Willow interjected, as she brashly approached the vamp, tilting her head back defiantly to meet his gaze.

"Well, what do we have here?" the vamp countered, looking her up and down suggestively. "You might make a nice prize for my collection, little girl. I could use a new concubine."

The other vamps laughed. All but the one female among them.

"And your head would look really good over my mantle. Too bad it will turn to dust the second I slice it off."

"Ooh," the sound came from several members of the crowd as they mocked her in unison.

"So you think you're a tough one, do you?"

Willow raised the stake she'd been holding and nonchalantly held it to the vampire's chest. "I do alright."

Spike groaned inwardly. Just what the hell did she think she was doing? He had tried to teach her to be tough, to have confidence in herself, to toy with the vamps, but she was going too far. She wasn't the Slayer. Over the past few weeks, Spike had learned that Willow had some extraordinary gifts. She was faster than the average human, and a lot more agile. But her strength and stamina were sometimes woefully ordinary. With him by her side, she'd do fine with these vamps, but she would have been dead on her own. He had to keep reminding himself that she wasn't Buffy; just a reasonable facsimile thereof. She was no slayer. He had to stop treating her like one.

Spike inched closer to Willow. He couldn't step in between her and the vamp, but he needed to be ready the moment trouble started. And it would start. There was no doubt about that.

"You like to live dangerously, don't you girl?" the vamp asked. "How about I take care of that little problem right now?"

In a flash of movement, the vamp grabbed for the stake, but Willow was too quick for him. She pulled back and immediately took up a fighting stance. Spike was instantly beside her, ready to fight.

The vampires laughed.

"Hey Mack," one of the underlings addressed the leader, "looks like they're actually gonna try and fight. Stupid gits."

A sly smile spread across Mack's lips, making his vampire visage looks even more grotesque. "Just what I need. A good laugh. Come on guys. Let's have some fun."

And then the fighting started.

Spike knew that the other vamps recognized him as a vampire. It was easy for them to sniff out their own kind. But it didn't make a difference. Even though he was clearly the bigger threat, their efforts were more clearly concentrated on Willow. _Who were the stupid gits now?_ Spike wondered. Three vamps came at him, while the other four, including Mack, went for Willow.

Spike did his best to focus on his three opponents, while simultaneously trying to keep tabs on Willow. But it was difficult, if not impossible. For some reason, he was absolutely terrified that harm would come to the girl, and he couldn't concentrate on the task at hand. He had a brief flash of memory, to a time when Buffy had made him swear to protect Dawn at all costs. Even though he had made no promises this time, it seemed even more imperative that he keep this girl alive. There was something about her. He knew he'd give his life just to keep to her safe.

Running on autopilot, his mind focused on Willow, Spike took out two of the vamps. As the dust settled, he focused his attention on the third one; a scruffy, scrawny thing that he knew would pose no threat at all. Spike raised his stake and got set to pounce, when a blood-chilling scream rent the air.

The scrawny vamp was instantly forgotten. Spike turned to see the remaining demons all clustered together on the other side of the cemetery.

He took off at a run, reaching the group only a few seconds later. Three of them were pinning Willow against a tree, while Mack was slowly sucking her dry.

A blind rage overcame Spike. His body started to move of its own accord and he had absolutely no conscious control over his actions. One by one, the vamp underlings disappeared before his eyes in identical clouds of dust, until only Mack remained.

Mack must have sensed that his pack had been decimated, because as soon as the last minion had disappeared, he pulled his fangs out of Willow's neck and looked at Spike, laughter in his eyes. "Just give me a minute to finish with her, and I'll be right with you."

Spike couldn't even be bothered with a witty retort. Instead, a deep, guttural roar escaped his throat and he charged at the other vampire.

Mack let Willow go and she slid bonelessly to the ground. Spike wanted to stop and pick her up, but he couldn't. Kill first, save later, was all he could think.

Spike didn't give Mack time to reach for a weapon. He didn't even give him a chance to properly defend himself. He simply started beating him senseless, until his face was so bruised and bloodied that he was unrecognizable as vampire or man.

As the beating intensified, Mack started to choke up blood. Willow's blood. It was more than Spike could take. His rage reached a fever pitch and without a second thoughtm he drove his stake through Mack's heart and the vampire exploded in a cloud of thick grey dust.

Without even taking a moment to recuperate, Spike sunk down onto his knees and scooped Willow up in his arms. She was barely breathing and her pulse was alarmingly faint. Her skin was cold and dangerously pale and Spike knew she had lost far too much blood. The only good news was that she wasn't yet dead and she hadn't been turned. But if he didn't get her some help soon, it was going to be little consolation.

Spike rose from the ground, gently cradling Willow in his arms. Her wound wasn't bleeding, thank the Powers, but then vamp bites rarely did. He needed to get her to a hospital as quickly as possible. A blood transfusion was probably the only thing that was going to save her life.

As he walked out of the cemetery, Spike's mind raced with worry and rage. He was terrified, something he had rarely ever been in his un-life. If Willow died, Buffy would never forgive him. On the other hand, Spike couldn't help but hold Buffy partially responsible for this. If she had trained the girl properly, instead of trying to shelter her from the truth, this never would have happened. If Willow died, he didn't know how he could ever forgive Buffy. Or himself.

It took less than five minutes for Spike to reach the nearest hospital. He had lived in London long enough, over the years, to know the place like the back of his hand. He rushed Willow into the casualty department and demanded that she be admitted at once.

She had been taken right in, but the triage nurse had had a lot of questions for Spike. He made up a false name and a story about having found her passed out in the bathroom at a club. He claimed not to know her and disappeared from the hospital as quickly as he could, ignoring the nurse's instructions to wait until the police arrived. He knew Willow would be fine on her own. She was in good hands now, and no doubt, someone would be calling her mother shortly, to let her know what had happened.

As Spike meandered down the street, aimlessly wandering about the city with no place in particular to go, he couldn't help but think about Buffy. What would happen when she found out? Of course he had no idea what scenario the police or the hospital would come up with to explain Willow's condition, but as soon as Buffy saw the bite marks, she'd know. She'd know that Willow had been attacked by a vampire.

"Bloody hell." Spike stopped in his tracks, a cold flush breaking out all over his body. Would she think it was him? Would she automatically think he'd been feeding again, preying on her daughter for blood? That self-righteous bitch! He wasn't the only one culpable here. Buffy was just as guilty. Who the hell did she think she was, anyway? She was the one who had neglected Willow's training. At least he had taken the time to show her how to defend herself. Alright, so it had failed miserably. But at least he had tried.

It was in that instant that Spike decided to call Buffy and giver he a piece of his mind.

Before he could stop himself, driven by self-righteous indignation, Spike pulled out his cell phone and started punching the keys. Halfway through dialing, he realized that he was dialing a number that was nineteen years old. What were the chances that it still belonged to Buffy? Like everyone else on the planet, she probably didn't have a landline anymore, just a mobile. Was there even a point in trying?

Spike spent a full minute staring at the incomplete collection of numbers he had typed into his phone, the rage slowly draining out of him. He wanted to scream at her, to tell her it was all her fault. But he couldn't. Her daughter was dying. He couldn't add to her pain now; not just to make himself feel better. He loved her too much for that. She needed comfort, not blame. He'd leave her be for now. It was the best thing he could do for her.

Spike cancelled out the number he'd been dialing and slid the phone back into the pocket of his duster. He lit a cigarette, just to have something to do, and walked off into the night.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

It had been midnight when Buffy got the call. She had been sitting in front of the TV, trying to work up the courage to go to sleep, when the phone had rung. She had assumed it was Willow, just calling to say goodnight. She had never expected it to be a London hospital, calling to tell her that her only child had just been admitted and was dangerously close to death.

Without thinking, Buffy had changed out of her pajamas, stuffed some clothes into a bag, and dashed out of the house on her way to the airport. During the drive, she had called the airlines, trying to secure passage on the first flight out. Luckily, there had been a redeye leaving an hour later, and she had been able to get on it without a problem.

The flight to Heathrow had been interminably long. Buffy had called everyone she knew, while she was in the air, to let them know what was going on. She had called Dawn and Xander and Willow; she had called her secretary and left a message to cancel all of her appointments for the next week.

Now, countless hours later, Buffy was sitting in a London taxi, on her way to the hospital. She hadn't slept in almost forty-eight hours, and the sleep she had gotten was woefully inadequate. Ever since Willow had left to attend college in London, Buffy hadn't been able to get a good night's sleep. Normally, she was able to fake a sense of calm and wellbeing – it was one of the skills she had learned during her time as a slayer. But now, she knew she was falling apart. Her nerves were humming beneath her skin, her heart beating furiously, even though there was no immediate danger. She had spoken to the hospital several times in the last sixteen hours and had been assured that Willow was fine. But that wasn't good enough. Buffy had to see for herself.

The doctor Buffy had spoken to had been vague about what had happened. All he had said was that Willow had passed out in a club. That was it. He had made it sound like it was a drug overdose or something unseemly like that. Whatever it was, he had refused to go into specifics over the phone. Which alarmed Buffy more than she could say. She was terrified. Just what had Willow gotten herself into? She had always been such a good kid; so well-behaved, so responsible. What had changed?

Buffy unconsciously stiffened; her back pressing up more firmly against the seat. She knew what had changed. Spike had come into Willow's life.

Willow had said that she hadn't seen Spike since that first night, and up until now, Buffy had believed her. But there was something about this whole situation that just had Spike written all over it. Had he gotten Willow into some kind of trouble? Buffy didn't really want to think about it, but what if Spike had somehow led Willow into a vamp attack? How would any of them ever recover if the truth finally came out? All of it?

Buffy physically shuddered. She took in a deep breath and tried to calm her nerves. "No," she whispered to herself. "This has nothing to do with Spike. There are no secrets being revealed. Everything's going to be just fine."

By the time Buffy reached the hospital it was nearly midnight. Even though it was well past visiting hours, the nurse at the front desk allowed Buffy to go up and see Willow. When Buffy entered the room, Willow was wide awake, slouched down against the headboard of her hospital bed, glaring up at the television screwed into the wall.

"I know they don't exactly have that many channels, but British TV isn't that bad," Buffy chided as she entered the room.

Willow's eyes instantly darted to her mother and she pushed herself up in bed, her whole demeanor changing. "You came!"

"You knew I would."

Buffy carelessly threw her overnight bag on the floor. She approached the bed and hugged Willow as tightly as she could without doing her permanent damage. She was so relived to hold her little girl again. She never wanted to let her go.

"Uh, mom," Willow protested, as she tried to push Buffy away, "you're kinda strangling me."

"Oh, sorry." Buffy pulled back and looked down at her daughter, desperate to get her fill of her. "I called you a few times, but the nurse said you were asleep."

"Yeah, well, this is the first good sleep I've gotten in the past month. I think it was the drugs. They gave me lots and lots of drugs."

Buffy's heart sank. No, not her little girl. Had she really been so blind? She had always thought Willow was too smart to get involved in things like that.

"Mom, what's wrong? Is everything okay? You look like you just saw someone kick a puppy. What's the matter?"

"I thought . . . I thought you knew better than to get involved with drugs. There are other ways to deal with life if you're really that unhappy."

"What?" Willow blinked at her a few times, as if trying to comprehend what Buffy was saying. "I'm not doing drugs. I'm talking about what the doctors gave me."

Willow pulled her knees up against her chest and hugged them to her, giving Buffy enough room to sit beside her on the bed.

Buffy sighed, some of the tension finally draining out of her. "Well that's a relief. So, you wanna tell me what happened?"

Willow started picking at the lint on her hospital-issue blanket, avoiding Buffy's gaze. "Not really."

"The doctor said you were found passed out in a club."

"Yup. Guess so."

"You guess so? Willow, look at me."

Willow turned her head, resting it against her knees, and looked at Buffy.

"What really happened?"

"I don't remember."

"You don't remember? Or you don't want to remember?"

"I don't remember," Willow replied blankly, unconvincingly.

"Let me guess, you don't want to tell me because Spike was involved."

"No!" Willow's head shot up and Buffy knew, just by her reaction, that Spike had most definitely been involved.

A cold chill ran up Buffy's spine as an unsettling thought pushed its way to the front of her mind. "Let me see your neck."

"What?"

Willow's hand instantly shot up to coddle the opposite side of her neck, the side that Buffy couldn't see, and the tingle running down Buffy's spine grew colder.

Buffy reached out and grabbed her daughter's hand, pulling it away from her neck. Then she put her fingers under Willow's chin, and forced her to turn her head. There, running the length of her neck, was a white, gauze bandage, held on by surgical tape. Buffy quickly pulled the tape away to reveal two perfect fang marks imbedded in her daughter's skin.

Buffy's hand fell to her side and she unconsciously started to drift away from the bed.

"It's not what you think," Willow protested hastily. "There was this Goth guy at the club, and he said he does this all the time. He has surgically implanted fangs, and sometimes he uses them to play vampire. That's all."

"You don't really believe that, do you?"

"Well . . . that's what he said. I mean . . . I mean, you don't believe that vampires are real, do you?"

Buffy's heart was pounding furiously in her chest. Apparently her own daughter had been taken in by a vampire, had been convinced that he was just playing dress-up, and had ended up nearly losing her life. Buffy suddenly felt a wave of guilt overtake her. If only she had told Willow the truth from the beginning, if only she had prepared her for this, she wouldn't be in this situation now.

Buffy swallowed the lump that was caught in her throat. She somehow forced air into her lungs and managed to speak. "What does Spike have to do with this?"

"Nothing," Willow protested again. "Absolutely nothing."

"Where is he?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen him in weeks. I swear."

Buffy's eyes narrowed on Willow. Why was she defending Spike so vehemently? He obviously had some involvement in this debacle. Why was Willow trying so hard to hide it?

"Did he get you involved in the Goth scene?" Buffy knew it was a ridiculous question, but she was desperate. Of course Spike wouldn't be caught dead – or undead – with a bunch of vampire wannabes. Then again, if some of them were real vamps, perhaps Spike was just trying to infiltrate their nest.

Buffy mentally shook herself. What the hell was she thinking? Of course Spike wasn't trying to infiltrate anything. The only reason he had pretended to be a good guy back in Sunnydale, was because he had wanted to be with her. After nineteen years out on his own, she was sure he had reverted to type. Unless of course, he was using the good guy act to get to Willow. Buffy prayed that wasn't the case.

"I told you, Spike had nothing to do with it. Can we just forget about it now?" Willow picked up the bandage where Buffy had dropped it on the blanket and worked on putting it back in place.

Buffy was momentarily contrite. "I'm sorry sweetheart. I'm just worried about you. And this . . . this isn't like you."

Willow concentrated on fixing her bandage. She wouldn't look at Buffy. "I'm growing up. That's all. I'm going to have to make my own mistakes."

"Mistakes are one thing, but letting a vampire suck on you for fun—"

"He wasn't a vampire!" Now Willow did look at her. "Vampires don't exist!"

Buffy's eyes desperately searched Willow's. She could see fear there; fear that Buffy would recognize the truth.

"Oh my god." Buffy stared at her in disbelief. "You knew. You knew he was a vampire and you let him bite you anyway."

"What?"

"And . . . and it wasn't some guy you met in a club, was it?" Buffy's eyes lost their focus as her mind finally put two and two together. She began to drift about the room aimlessly, lost in her own thoughts. "No, you would never do that. Would you? It was him. It had to be him."

"What are talking about?" There was a rising note of panic in Willow's voice, but it barely registered.

"Spike. You let Spike bite you. You let him feed off you. And he nearly drained you dry."

"That's insane."

"It may be insane," Buffy said, finally looking up at her daughter, "but it's the truth."

"No it's not the truth." Willow pushed herself up on her knees so that she was kneeling on the bed, finally at eye level with her mother. "Vampires aren't even real."

"Of course they're real. Something I'm sure you're well aware of. Did Spike tell you? Was he the one who introduced you to the idea of the _noble vampire_?" Buffy asked, unable to keep the derision from her voice.

"What?"

"I bet he played it for all it was worth too. He made it all seem very attractive, very seductive." Suddenly, Buffy's whole body went cold. "Please tell me you kept your promise to me. Please tell me you didn't sleep with him."

"Of course not. I would never lie to you."

"Except about this of course."

They were both silent for a long moment. Buffy's insides were churning, her stomach was in knots. She had spent the past eighteen years trying to shelter Willow from the truth, and then Spike shows up, and a month later, her daughter is at death's door. It was too much for Buffy to take.

"How do you know about the vampires?" Willow asked, as she sat back on her haunches and looked up at Buffy.

"Spike didn't tell you?"

Willow shook her head in the negative.

"I used to fight them."

"What?"

"I was a slayer."

Willow gasped. "That lying son-of-a-bitch."

"Excuse me?" Buffy gave her daughter a quizzical look.

"Spike. He told me that you weren't the Slayer. I specifically asked him and he lied to me, right to my face."

"Yes, well evil, blood-sucking fiends will do that."

"But Spike's not an evil, blood-sucking fiend. He's a pretty cool guy."

Buffy rolled her eyes. She suddenly felt like she was talking to a 15-year-old Dawn again. _Oh, Spike's so cool. He's got cool hair, and he wears cool leather coats and stuff._ Buffy felt just a little bit nauseated.

"Guys who are really cool, don't use young girls as take-out. Despite what Spike thinks, you're not a Happy Meal with legs."

"A what?"

Buffy shook her head. "Never mind." And also, of course, never mind the fact that Angel had once used her in that exact same way. Spike had never done it though, but she was sure it was only because she had never given him the chance.

"Spike didn't feed on me, if that's what you're referring to. He didn't tell me about the vampires either. I knew before I met him."

"How?" Buffy absently drifted back toward the bed and sat at the end, looking across at her daughter.

"A couple of months back I was dating a guy who turned out to be a vampire. I didn't know until it was too late. He attacked me one night on our way home from a club, and I instinctively stabbed him with a nice, pointy pencil."

An unbidden smile slowly spread across Buffy's lips. She knew she should be shocked and furious, but more than anything she was just proud. Proud that her little girl could take care of herself; that she had the instincts of a slayer.

"And then what happened?"

"Well, after that, I knew I had to do something. Every time I went out, I would look around and wonder if the people on the streets were vampires or not. I started taking the long way home at night, ducking into alleys—"

"Willow, you didn't."

"I thought I was the only one in the world who knew. I thought it was my responsibility to do something. So I started hunting them on my own. And then one night, Spike found me. I guess he was watching me from the shadows. He introduced himself, and the rest, as they, is history."

"So you have been seeing him."

"I'm not sure that 'seeing' is the right word. He's been training me. Every night we meet in a cemetery or an alleyway and he trains me and we fight whatever comes along. He told me once that just because I wasn't officially a slayer, didn't mean I shouldn't have a watcher, whatever that means."

Buffy had to keep herself from laughing. Spike as a watcher? The idea was ludicrous. Suddenly an image of Randy Giles popped into her head, and she couldn't help but burst out laughing.

"I'm glad you find this so amusing."

"I'm sorry," Buffy said, working very hard to get herself under control, "but, it's just, the idea of Spike . . . as a watcher." And then she started laughing again.

"I don't get it. What's so bad about watchers?"

"Nothing. They're just usually stuffy old English guys, with tweed suits with elbow patches, that's all."

"Oh, you mean like Uncle Giles?"

"Exactly like Uncle Giles."

Willow's mouth fell open. "You mean, Uncle Giles was your watcher?"

Buffy nodded, still unable to keep the smile from her lips.

"Well," Willow said, as she leaned back against the headboard again and stretched out her legs, "that explains a lot."

"So, if Spike didn't feed off of you, how did you end up here?" Buffy asked, finally managing to sober up just enough to sound adequately concerned.

"We met a gang of vamps last night. A big gang. And instead of going for Spike, they went for me. He just wasn't able to get to me in time. That's all. It was my fault really. I should have just gotten right to the fighting, instead of taunting them first. But I like taunting them. It's the best part."

"Tell me about it." Buffy tried again not to smile. She did miss fighting, missed the banter and the kill. She should be horrified that her daughter had discovered these things and seemed to like them as well, but she wasn't. Again, all she really felt was pride.

"Do you miss it?"

"Fighting? A little."

"Spike said you were very good at it."

"Wait. What? I thought you said he told you I wasn't a slayer."

"Yeah, but he told me that you and him used to fight. Implied that you used to beat on him. Now I know he just said that to cover for the fact that you were the Slayer. I get that now."

"Yeah," Buffy said quietly, "I'm sure that's why he said it."

Buffy didn't like to think about the way she had treated Spike, all those years ago. When the hell had she decided that it was okay to express her love through violence; that it was alright to hurt the people who cared about you just because they were willing to take it? She was glad Willow didn't know about that part of herself. She didn't ever want her daughter to know.

"Mom, can I ask you something?"

Buffy came out of her own private musings and looked at Willow. "Sure honey, you can ask me anything."

"When Spike left you, were you seeing someone else?"

"What?"

"Well, Spike said that he was once in love with a slayer and that he left her because she had chosen to be with someone else. I was just wondering, who that someone else was."

Buffy looked blankly at Willow, shaking her head from side to side. "No. There was no one. Spike and I had been seeing each other for a few months. There was no one else in my life at the time."

"But he said there was, and I seriously doubt he was ever in love with two slayers. It had to have been you he was talking about."

The breath caught in Buffy's throat, hearing her daughter use the word "love" like that. Yes, Spike had loved her, hadn't he? Or at least, he had claimed to. But he had disappeared, abandoned her. Apparently that love had never really been as strong as he had always professed it to be.

"Wasn't there anyone?" Willow prompted. "Someone at work, or at school? An old boyfriend maybe?"

"What?" Buffy's heart literally skipped a beat and she suddenly felt faint.

"Could there have been someone that maybe Spike was unnecessarily jealous of? You know, someone in your life at the time?"

And suddenly, Buffy knew. She had spent the past nineteen years trying to figure out why Spike had left when he had. And now she knew. It was because of Riley, wasn't it? Had he thought, even though Riley had left, that she wanted to be with him? That she _had _been with him?

Until now, Spike hadn't known about Willow; had never even known that Buffy was pregnant. Had he really left because of Riley? That was the most ludicrous thing Buffy had ever heard. Riley had a wife. Riley had willingly left her, a second time. There was no way she would have gone running after him again. Had that really been Spike's reason for leaving? Had it really been something that absurd?

Buffy's whole body began to tremble and her eyes stung with unshed tears. She quickly got up from the bed and went to the window, turning her back to Willow. She didn't want her daughter to see how shaken she was; how much she just wanted to break down and cry.

"Mom, is everything alright?"

Buffy pulled in a shaky breath. "Yeah, everything's fine sweetheart."

"Was there someone?"

Buffy opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't. Had all the misery and loneliness of the past nineteen years just been the result of some stupid misunderstanding?

No, that wasn't it. It wasn't a misunderstanding. It was a miscommunication. She had told Spike that she didn't want him anymore. That it was over. Without ever having said the words, she had told him to go. And all the while, all she had ever really wanted was for him to stay. She just hadn't realized it at the time.

"An ex-boyfriend of mine showed up in Sunnydale a few weeks before Spike left," Buffy somehow managed. "I didn't make the connection until now. I never really understood why Spike left."

"So you and this ex got together?"

"No." Buffy turned and looked at Willow, her emotions finally a bit more under control. "We didn't. He came to town sporting a brand new wife." Buffy smiled bitterly, in spite of herself. "There was never going to be anything between us. I thought Spike knew that. I guess I just took it for granted that he knew."

"So, you've spent the past however many years apart because of some stupid misunderstanding. That's . . . that's just . . . stupid."

Buffy laughed. "Tell me about it."

"I guess . . . I guess it was a good thing though, right? I mean, if Spike had never left, then you would never have met my father, right?"

Willow's tone had changed considerably and Buffy could tell that she was fishing for information. Was it time to finally tell her the truth? She already knew that vampires were real. She already knew that her mother was the Slayer. Would it really hurt for her to find out that her father was a vampire? For the first time in eighteen years, Buffy wasn't so sure.

"Well?" Willow prompted.

"Well," Buffy began slowly, "not really."

Willow cocked one finely arched brow and skewered Buffy with her eyes, the exact same way that Spike always had. How could anyone miss the resemblance between them?

"What do you mean, not really?"

Buffy sighed. "I mean that Spike didn't have to leave for me to meet someone new. I was already pregnant when he left. I just didn't know it at the time. Spike is your father."

"I knew it!" Willow jumped out of bed in her excitement.

"What do you mean, you knew it? The man's a vampire."

"But he wasn't always a vampire."

"He has been since I've known him."

"What?" Willow stilled and gave Buffy a quizzical look.

"Spike was turned over a hundred and forty year ago. He's been a vampire the whole time I've known him."

"Then how—?"

"We don't really know. Giles had some theories, but we were never really sure."

"What kind of theories?"

"Nothing I feel like explaining tonight," Buffy replied, suddenly feeling drained. So, all the secrets were out in the open now. She wondered what this meant for their future. She sighed heavily. "Why don't you get back in bed? It's been a very long day and I think I just need to find myself a hotel and get some rest."

Willow did as she was told, and Buffy tucked her in like she was still a little girl. "Are you going to go see Spike?" Willow asked. "Or should I say 'dad?'" she asked with a grin.

"Not tonight. I don't think I can take seeing Spike just now. It's been too long. Besides, he may not be in London anymore. Knowing him, he ducked out, just when you needed him most."

"That's not fair," Willow countered.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe it's not. I'm just tired. I love you sweetheart." Buffy leaned down and kissed her daughter's forehead. "I'll be back again first thing in the morning. Goodnight sweetheart."

Willow smiled a small smile. "Goodnight mom."

Buffy kissed her one more time for good measure, turned off the lights, and then left the room.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Spike was standing outside the hospital, watching Willow's window, when Buffy walked out the front door. She was more than a hundred yards away, but he could tell it was her. There was no mistaking Buffy; her look, her scent. Spike ducked behind a nearby tree, hoping that her spidey senses wouldn't pick up on him. He wasn't ready to have a confrontation with her yet. Not here, not now. He needed time; time to gather his thoughts, time to get his emotions under control. One word from Buffy and he knew he'd fall apart.

Spike listened intently, trying to track Buffy's movements, but she wasn't moving. He concentrated harder, trying to hone in on her heartbeat, her breathing. She was still standing by the entrance. What was she waiting for? Had she already sensed him? Did she know it was him, or did she think it was just some random vampire out for a midnight snack?

Before Spike could decide what to do, he heard footsteps coming his way. Distinct, determined footsteps. He would recognize that sound anywhere. She was coming toward him; slowly, taking her time. No doubt intentionally trying to prolong his agony. A part of him wanted to run. But another part of him – the part of him that always had been and always would be Buffy's – was urging him to stay. Without a second thought, Spike stepped out onto the pavement and found himself face to face with Buffy Summers for the first time in nineteen years.

Buffy stopped dead in her tracks. They stared at each other across the open space – a mere handful of yards separating them. Their eyes searched each other's and Spike felt every nerve in his body cry out for her.

It had been a long time since he had set eyes on his slayer. Too long. Nothing had changed though. Maybe it was because she was a slayer, but she didn't seem to have aged at all. Her hair was still that warm honey-blonde, her hazel eyes still bright and sparkling with hidden flecks of green, her skin was smooth and looked so soft that his long-deprived fingers were just aching to touch her. But he couldn't touch her. That wasn't what this was about. She had made her decision long ago when she had chosen Soldier Boy over him. He knew now that things had turned out the way they were meant to. Riley had given her something that he never could, a beautiful, vibrant baby girl, a girl who was all grown up now and getting into trouble just like her mother.

"Slayer," Spike drawled, when he finally found his voice.

"Spike," Buffy said, as she began to walk toward him.

The sound of his name on her lips sent a shock through his entire body. His breath caught in his throat and his eyes glazed over in wonder. A moment later, she was mere inches away from him. She looked up into his eyes with what he thought was tenderness, but a moment later, she pulled back her fist and punched him solidly in the face.

"Ow!" Spike exclaimed, as he cradled his nose. "What the hell was that for?"

"For being a dope," Buffy replied.

"A what?" Spike lowered his hand and stared at her as if she were crazy.

"A dope. And a bonehead. How could you think that I would run off after Riley? Just how stupid are you? You big, stupid vampire."

Spike wanted to be angry, but he couldn't. All he could do was smirk. There was just something so irresistible about her when she talked like that. He'd forgotten how absolutely entrancing she was.

"Well?" she continued, when he didn't speak. "Don't you have anything to say for yourself?"

It took Spike a moment to get his bearings, then he replied, "You were the one who was pregnant with his baby. Don't go blaming me for thinking you were going to go running after him."

"I wasn't pregnant with his baby, you idiot. God," Buffy rolled her eyes in exasperation, "you can be so stupid sometimes."

"I know you were pregnant. Don't go pretendin' that it wasn't Riley's. I knew you were with child when I left."

"You knew?" Buffy looked at him in shock. "How could you have possibly known?"

"Vampire, remember? Extraordinary sense of hearing and all that. I could hear the heartbeat when you were just a few weeks along. I knew before anyone," he said proudly, causing the frown on Buffy's face to deepen.

"You knew and you just left?"

"'Course I did. What was I supposed to do, stick around and take care of Finn's bastard? Let you use me and kick me around some more? Thanks, but no thanks."

He expected Buffy to yell at him some more, but she didn't. She dragged her eyes away from his and looked down at the pavement. "I'm sorry about that," she said quietly. "I did a lot of terrible, hurtful things to you. I treated you like you were worthless, less than human. I'm sorry."

"That's all right, luv. I am less than human, so, not really your fault."

She looked up at him then, meeting his gaze directly. "Of course it's my fault. Just because you're a vampire, doesn't mean you're worthless. It doesn't mean you deserve to be mistreated and abused. I'm just glad that I finally got a chance to apologize. That's all."

"No need for an apology, pet."

"Please, Spike. Just take it."

"Alright. Apology accepted."

"Good." She straightened a bit and crossed her arms over her chest, tilting her chin upward defiantly as she did so. "Now I can go back to being mad at you."

"For what?"

"For abandoning me and your daughter when we needed you most."

"What?" Spike was certain that he hadn't heard her correctly. His brain refused to register what she had just said.

"Willow? Your daughter? You knew I was pregnant with her and you walked out anyway."

Spike opened his mouth to protest but no words came out. Was she completely and totally off her bird? She really thought that he was Willow's father? That was crazy. Insane. Ludicrous.

"Oh, I see I've rendered you speechless for once. I'm going to have to remember this. I didn't think it was possible to ever shut you up."

Spike inhaled a sharp breath and tried to form some kind of coherent remark. "But I'm a vampire," was all he got out.

"Yes, I know."

"We don't have live offspring."

"Well aware of that too," Buffy said disinterestedly, as if all of this had already occurred to her a long time ago.

"You can't be serious."

Buffy cocked her head to the side and skewered him with her eyes. "Are you through?"

"Am I through? I'm just getting started. This is completely and totally insane. Just because Riley's apparently gone off somewhere, leaving you two in the lurch, doesn't mean you can now recruit me to play daddy dearest. It doesn't work that way, pet. I'm not fallin' for it."

"You know Angel had a kid, right? After he was a vampire?"

Spike glared at her, hating the sound of Angel's name falling from her lips. "Yeah, I heard somethin' about it. So what?"

"Well, it proves that anything's possible."

"Not this. _This_ is not possible."

"Giles always thought it had something to do with the spell that brought me back from the dead. He thought maybe it had some lingering effects, just magically brought your cold, dead seed back to life."

"Well that's a charming thought, isn't it?"

"It's possible. Who knows how these things work. The point is, I didn't sleep with Riley. Riley had a wife by the time he came back to Sunnydale; a beautiful, dark-haired Amazon. She was Black Ops, a real G.I. Jane. Not the kind of girl I could compete with."

"You're joking, right? You can compete with anyone. You're Buffy."

"Yeah, well, I didn't feel like it at the time. And anyway, it didn't matter. I didn't want Riley. Not really. I was just down on myself and feeling depressed, that was all. But I never wanted Riley. I just wanted you."

"You had a funny way of showin' it. Ending it all. Walking away."

"I know." She looked away then, her eyes searching the shadows for answers. "I'm sorry I ever did that. It's caused us all a lot of unnecessary pain."

They were both silent for a long time. So much time had passed, so much had been said, so much was still unsaid. Neither one of them knew where to go from here.

Finally, Spike couldn't stand the silence anymore. "You really expect me to believe that she's my kid?"

Buffy finally looked at him. "She's yours Spike. There was no one else. There's never been anyone else. Not since I came back from the dead. There's only been you."

Spike's eyes frantically searched Buffy's face, looking for the truth in her words. It was true, wasn't it? There hadn't been anyone else. Had she been punishing herself all this time? Was that why she had never allowed herself to be with anyone again? If that were the case, he felt sorry for her. And he felt guilty. He had never wanted her to live a life of loneliness; he just hadn't wanted to have her happiness thrown in his face, that was all.

"Why? Why would you do that?" he couldn't help but ask. "Why would you deny yourself affection all these years?"

"Because I learned something very important after you left. I learned something the day Willow was born. I learned what love was. Real love. And I knew then that there was only one person I could ever feel it for. And that was you."

The shock to Spike's system was absolute. Everything within him completely shut down and he vaguely wondered how he was still managing to exist even though his body had ceased to function. The world completely closed in on him and he felt as if he was going to faint.

"Spike?"

He heard Buffy's voice and, a moment later, felt her hand touch his sleeve. He nearly collapsed from the weight of it.

"Spike. You do believe me, don't you?"

The fear and uncertainty in her voice was too much for him to bear. He quickly shook himself out of his stupor and looked down at her. There were tears glistening in her eyes.

"Spike?"

He wanted to believe. He wanted to believe her more than he had ever wanted anything in his entire existence. He wanted to believe that she loved him and that Willow was their daughter – not Riley's – but theirs. He wanted to believe in hearts and flowers and happily-ever-after for them. He just didn't know how he could do it. After what had seemed like a lifetime of pain and loneliness, how could he just start believing again? How could he ever make that leap of faith?

"I see you don't believe me." Buffy let go of his arm and stepped back, putting a sizeable distance between them. "I understand. I hope though," she said, through unshed tears, "that you do believe me about Willow. Because she is your daughter. And she does need you. She trusts you." Buffy smiled in spite of herself. "And it would mean a lot to her if you wanted to be a part of her life."

Spike stared at Buffy, trying to make it all make sense; trying to get his emotions under control. Of course he wanted to be a part of Willow's life. He had wanted to be a part of her life even when he had thought that she was Riley's daughter, simply because she was a part of Buffy, and he loved everything that was Buffy. Did he really believe that she was his daughter? He wanted to, but it was a difficult proposition.

Of course, it was in Buffy's favor that she had told Willow that her father's name was William. That wasn't something that was just made up on the spot, to convince him in the here and now. Willow had told him, during one of their training sessions, that she had always known her father's name, since earliest childhood. Maybe Buffy hadn't lied about that, to either of them.

And if Buffy hadn't lied about that, maybe she wasn't lying about being in love with him either. If she really had kept herself only unto him all those years, perhaps the love she claimed to feel was a good enough reason. Perhaps it was the only reason that _was_ good enough. The truth was, Spike hadn't been with anyone either since he had left Buffy. He had told himself that it was just part of his personal penance; that he was abstaining to atone for his myriad sins. But that wasn't it. He had done it because he loved her and he missed her. And because no other woman could ever compare to his Buffy.

Oh, of course he had flirted, but that was just part of the game, part of his public persona. No matter who he talked to, or who he flirted with, he always went home alone. Always. Because no matter how much time had passed, it was always all about Buffy.

If his love for her had kept him true, then why couldn't hers do the same? They shared a child together – Spike was more and more certain of it with each passing moment – why shouldn't the bond between them be strong? Why shouldn't it have made Buffy finally come to her senses and acknowledge what he had known all along – that she loved him?

"Well," Buffy began, "I can see you're going to need some time to think about it. I won't bother you anymore tonight."

She turned and began walking down the pavement, but Spike couldn't let her go.

"Slayer wait," he called, as he ran after her.

She stopped a few feet in front of him and turned back around. She looked miserable, dejected, as if the only thing she had ever wanted was forever out of her reach, as if she had been rejected by the only person she had ever truly loved. Spike knew that feeling. Knew it intimately. It was the worst feeling in the world.

Spike wanted to say so much, but he didn't know where to begin. He said the first thing that popped into his mind. "Do you have a place to stay?"

"What?" She asked, as if she hadn't heard the question.

"Do you have a place to stay?"

She shook her head in the negative, not saying a word.

"You wanna crash at my flat?"

"Stay . . . with you?" she asked, the disbelief painfully apparent in her voice.

"Yeah. Unless you got someplace better to go."

"Are you sure you want me? I mean . . . after everything."

Of course he wanted her. He always wanted her. But that wasn't what she was asking and he knew it. "Yeah. Come on," he said, motioning for her to follow him. "My flat's only a few blocks from here."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

It was with cautious steps that Buffy entered Spike's apartment. She didn't know why Spike had invited her or why she'd agreed to come. She was filled with an odd combination of fear and anticipation. She wasn't quite sure which one was worse.

"The loo's in there," Spike said, as he cocked his head toward a half-open door on one side of the room, "if you wanna freshen up."

"No, I'm good for now. Thanks." Buffy sighed heavily and looked absently about the room.

It was a surprisingly nice place. A studio apartment. Not too extravagant or anything; just clean, neat, and functional. It was sectioned off into three separate areas; kitchen, living room, and bedroom. And no matter where Buffy stood, she couldn't help but be painfully aware of the comfy looking double bed pushed up against the far wall.

She heard Spike close and lock the door behind her. "Are you hungry?" he asked.

"Hungry?"

"Yeah, you know, as in food? I've got some leftover Chinese takeaway if you're interested." He moved toward the kitchen and stopped at the refrigerator door, waiting for her answer.

"Sounds great," she said with a total lack of enthusiasm, as she dropped her bag onto the couch in the center of the room. "I haven't eaten since yesterday. Unless you count those two bags of airplane peanuts. But I don't think they count. Airplane peanuts are not food."

"No arguing with you there pet." Spike turned toward the fridge and began rummaging around for the leftovers.

Buffy knew there was nothing she could do to help, so she sat down at one of the stools on the other side of the kitchen counter and watched Spike.

Seeing him again had been a complete shock to her system. Talking to him had been even worse. So many times over the years, she had imagined what it would be like. She had never imagined it would be like this.

The truth was, his first reaction had been the one she'd been expecting. She had expected him not to believe her, about Willow or her feelings. What she hadn't expected was this odd offer of friendship. She didn't know what Spike was doing. Maybe he just felt sorry for her. Maybe he just thought she was the most pathetic thing in the world and he was just trying to give her some comfort. It seemed like an odd gesture. So many times she had accused Spike of being less than human, and now, here he was, offering her the simple human comforts of food and shelter. She knew she had underestimated him again. She always had. Maybe she deserved to be punished for her mistakes. After all, she had brought this all on herself.

Spike quickly heated up the Chinese food and made up two plates. He then poured her a glass of red wine and himself a nice glass of warm blood, and sat down across from her at the counter.

It was a quiet dinner, mostly spent stealing furtive looks at each other. He hadn't changed at all, not in nineteen years. Of course, Spike was a vampire, so that wasn't so surprising. Still, Buffy had expected to see some change. But Spike was still Spike. It made Buffy feel painfully old. Spike had stayed the same, but she had aged almost twenty years. Of course he didn't want her anymore. He could have any woman he wanted. Why in the world would he still want her after everything she'd done to him?

"Not hungry?" Spike asked, looking pointedly at her half-full plate.

"Sorry," Buffy offered. "It's been a long couple of days. I haven't been to sleep in almost forty-eight hours. I guess I just don't have much of an appetite."

"Why don't you try to get some sleep then?"

"Sleep?"

"Yeah." A knowing smirk momentarily graced Spike's lips, but he was quick to suppress it. "You can have the bed, I'll take the couch."

"Oh." There was absolutely no way to hide the disappointment from her voice. Spike didn't seem to notice. Or at least, he pretended not to notice; his oh-so-subtle way of letting her know that he wasn't interested. It made Buffy feel even smaller.

Painfully self-aware and desperate to get away from the rejection, if only for a moment, Buffy pushed herself off the stool and walked toward the couch. "I'm gonna get ready for bed, okay?"

"Sure. Fine." Again, he seemed not to care.

Buffy inhaled a girding breath and reached for her bag. A second later, she retreated into the bathroom, closed the door and let out a sharp breath.

She felt like the world's biggest fool. She should never have agreed to come here. It was beyond torture. She couldn't be close to Spike without wanting Spike. And he simply didn't want her. How was she ever supposed to make it through the night?

Buffy quickly changed into her sleepwear. In all the years that had passed, her taste in clothes had never changed. She was still wearing tank tops and pajama bottoms to bed. Of course, if she'd had any idea that she might be spending the night in Spike's apartment, she would have brought something much more frilly and feminine, but she hadn't known. So a tank top and pajama bottoms were just going to have to do.

When Buffy had finished with her evening routine, she packed everything up in her bag and left it on the side of the tub. Then she squared her shoulders and somehow willed herself to open the door. When she entered the larger room, she found Spike laying out a blanket for himself on the couch.

"Did you find everything alright?" he asked, like she was just an ordinary houseguest, and he an ordinary host. "Toothpaste, soap, towels?"

"Yeah, everything was fine. Thanks." Buffy just stood there watching him as he fluffed up the couch pillows and got his bed ready. It was bizarre, this little domestic routine they were playing. It was oddly unsettling. Buffy needed to do something, but what?

"You know," she began, before she could stop herself, "that couch is probably too short for you. Maybe I should take it instead, and you can take the bed." _Please don't say yes. Please don't_

_say yes_, Buffy silently prayed. She knew Spike had a bit of an old-fashioned streak, being Victorian and all. He would never let a guest – particularly a female guest – take the second best bed. At least, that's what Buffy was counting on.

"Nah, it's fine," Spike replied. "I don't mind. I don't plan to get much sleep anyway."

"Why? Is something wrong?" Buffy was slightly hopeful that he intended to stay up all night, thinking about her. But of course, she was wrong.

"No, nothing's wrong. I'm nocturnal. Or had you forgotten? Don't ever get much sleeping done after the sun goes down."

Now Buffy felt both small and stupid. Of course. It hadn't been _that_ long. How could she forget that Spike hardly ever slept at night? Maybe she would just chalk it up to a very long and stressful day. She didn't have much choice.

"Right," she breathed out quietly in answer. "Well, goodnight then."

"'Night."

Buffy meandered toward the bed. When she reached it, she ran her hand lazily over the duvet, enjoying the feel of the fabric against her fingertips. She was going to sleep in Spike's bed, and whether he was there with her or not, it meant that she might finally get a decent night's sleep for the first time in a long time.

"Somethin' wrong Slayer?" Spike asked, after she just continued to stand there, staring lazily down at the bed.

"No, I . . . I was just thinking. This bed is really pretty large, and I don't take up all that much space, so if you wanted to—" She looked up at him and found him staring at her with cold, disbelieving eyes. It stopped her in midsentence. She gulped down a breath and hastily mumbled, "Or not."

"You want me to share the bed with you?"

"Well, not if you don't want to. I just thought—"

"You thought . . .?"

"I thought you'd be more comfortable there. That's all."

"Sleeping next to you?" he laughed. "Hardly."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Buffy asked indignantly, putting her hands on her hips and rounding on him.

"Oh, you don't know? Come on Slayer, you've never been as naïve as all that. Don't go playing the ignorant virgin now. It's very unbecoming."

Buffy seriously wanted to slap him. Not just for insulting her, but for insisting on calling her "Slayer" again. He hadn't once called her Buffy yet, and it was really starting to irk her.

"Well, I'm sorry if you took my trying to be nice as some kind of unseemly offer. It wasn't. I just thought you might want to be comfortable while you slept. But forget it. I hope you wake up with a backache that won't go away for a week. It's the least you deserve."

Buffy turned in a huff before Spike could say anything, and slid under the covers, pulling them up to her nose so that she could no longer see him. She just wanted to go to sleep. She didn't want anything from him anymore. Just some peace and quiet. Of course wanting peace and quiet from Spike was like wanting peace in the Middle East. She could want to her heart's content, but it was never going to happen.

She heard him approaching the bed and her pulse instantly quickened. _Stupid, stupid heart_, she thought. _Stop beating like that for Spike. He doesn't deserve it._

But of course he did deserve it. And of course, her heart would beat like that for no other. Buffy stayed perfectly still, waiting to see what he would do.

"Move over Slayer," he commanded, as he tugged up the corner of the duvet.

"I'm sorry, there's no room at the inn. You'll have to sleep somewhere else."

"Alright then, have it your way."

Buffy thought he was going to leave, but instead he just climbed over her and got under the covers on the far side of the bed. He put his arms behind his head and lay back on the pillow with a contented sigh. "This is nice. You know, I don't think I've ever really appreciated this bed till now. Then again," he said, glancing down at Buffy, "I've never had anyone as beautiful as you in it before."

She knew it was supposed to sound flirtatious, seductive, but all it made her think about was all the women who had been here before her. It made her want to jump out of bed and spend the night on the couch herself.

"You're awful quiet," he said, when she didn't respond.

"What would you like me to say? That I'm flattered that I'm more attractive than the nasty, vampire skanks that you normally bring home? Sorry, just can't muster enough gratitude for that." And in a huff, Buffy turned over, giving Spike her back.

"That's not what I meant," he said quietly. "I've never had a woman in this bed before. I just . . . I don't know."

He sighed again and Buffy was strangely tempted to turn over and look him. But she didn't. She had some pride left; what little of it there was.

They both lay there like that for a long time, neither one speaking, but neither one sleeping either. Finally, Buffy couldn't take it anymore. She had to say something. "Why won't you call me Buffy?" she asked softly.

"'Cause it hurts. It hurts to let myself think I'm close to you, when I'm really not. Easier just to keep you at a distance now, and not go there."

"Why? You know how I feel about you."

"Do I?"

"I hope so."

Buffy held her breath, waiting for him to say something, anything. But he didn't. Instead, he moved up behind her, wrapping his arm around her waist and holding her close. She instantly burst into uncontrollable tears.

Buffy turned around within Spike's embrace and he gathered her up against him, allowing her to cry against his chest. It felt so unbelievably good to be in his arms again. To be held by him. To be safe and warm and not alone.

It took Buffy a long time to cry herself out. By the time the tears had completely dried, Buffy was fast asleep.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Spike didn't get any sleep that night. After Buffy had fallen asleep, he had just lain there, listening to her breathe. He'd really thought that he would never get the chance to be near her again, never get to touch her, or hear her voice. Now she was here with him, wrapped in his arms; quiet and calm and contented. He just wanted to hold her forever, but he couldn't. Eventually, she'd wake from her stupor, fully refreshed, and realize that she didn't want him after all. He knew she was emotionally fragile because of what had happened to Willow. But once the shock wore off, he was sure she'd be back to her old self in no time.

Spike stole a glance at the alarm clock on the nightstand – it was 9:30a.m. Visiting hours at the hospital started at 10. He hated the idea of Willow being there all by herself. He was desperate to see her, but knew he couldn't step foot in the hospital, afraid they might try to have him arrested. He knew he should wake Buffy, so she could go see their daughter, but Buffy was sleeping so soundly that he didn't have the heart to wake her. Ultimately, Spike decided that the best thing to do was just damn the police and show up at the hospital himself.

And so, after stealthily sneaking out of bed, Spike crept out of the apartment and made his way to the hospital. London was a wonderful place to be a vampire. The days were often rainy, the sky overcast with clouds that created a nice barrier against the sun. And that morning was particularly gloomy. It made walking to the hospital a fairly easy task.

When Spike arrived, he realized that he shouldn't have worried about being recognized. He was visiting the main wing of the hospital, not the casualty department. And besides, there was a completely different staff on call in the mornings. No one said a word as he asked for Willow's room number and was given his visitor's pass.

The door to her room was open, but he knocked anyway, hoping not to startle her.

"Spike?" she asked in surprise, as she pulled her eyes away from the TV. "What are you doing here?"

"Came to see how you were doing, li'l bit."

"But . . . but . . ." she looked toward the window, as if to ask how he could have possibly come in the middle of the day.

"It's only direct sunlight that kills vampires. We hardly ever have that here."

"Oh," she smiled awkwardly, as if she should have known that. Of course, there was no reason for her to have known, but it was sweet the way she smiled, just the same.

Spike was suddenly seeing her with new eyes. Before, he had just thought of her as Buffy's daughter. But now, he was seeing her as his own child. He couldn't help but stare at her in wonderment. He didn't know how it was possible, but he supposed Giles' theory was as good as any. Somehow, this beautiful creature before him was his. His and Buffy's. She was the most amazing thing he had ever seen.

"How are you feeling?" he finally asked, realizing that she was waiting for him to say something.

"Fine," she said, stretching out her stiff limbs. "I can't wait to get out of this place."

"Have they told you when you'll be released?"

"As soon as my doctor comes in and gives me one last checkup. So, hopefully sometime before lunch. I'm dying for a Big Mac."

"You know that stuff can kill you, right?"

"I think I deserve it. Besides, I'd rather be killed by a Big Mac than a vampire any day."

Spike leaned up against the footboard of the bed and stared down at her. "So, you saw your mum last night?"

"Yeah. How'd you know?"

"Saw her too. Talked to her for a bit."

"You did?" Willow sat up in bed, her full attention on Spike. "Did she say anything?"

"Said a lot of things. Did you have anything specific in mind?"

Spike didn't know how much of it Buffy had told her. Did Willow know that she was his daughter? Did she know that her mother was the Slayer? Spike was suddenly afraid of saying too much.

"Did she talk to you about that Riley guy?"

Spike snorted. "Unfortunately."

"What does that mean?" Willow asked, with obvious alarm. "I mean, what she told you about him, wasn't it good news?"

"Depends on your point of view, I suppose."

"Well, from your point of view?"

"Yeah, it was good news."

"So you know then?"

Spike cocked an eyebrow and gave her a questioning look. Did she know? Or did she only think she knew? "Know what pet?"

"That you're . . . you know . . . not as sterile as you thought you were."

Spike couldn't help but laugh at that. She did have a strange way of expressing herself, didn't she, this daughter of his? He couldn't help but feel a certain sense of pride when he looked at her. She was a beautiful young woman and she was going to make one hell of a slayer someday, whether she was the Chosen One or not. He'd make sure of it. They both would.

"Yeah, she told me you're mine."

"And . . . is that okay with you?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Well, no. I mean, genetics are genetics. But that doesn't mean you have to like it. It doesn't mean you have to stick around."

"Why wouldn't I want to stick around?"

She shrugged absently. "I don't know. A lot of father's just don't. I wouldn't really know though. I've never had one."

"Of course you have; I just wasn't with you. But that's gonna change."

"Are you sure? I mean, now that you know?"

"If I could love you, believing you were Captain Cardboard's progeny, why would I love you any less when I know you're my own?"

"Captain what?"

"Cardboard. And that's not the point."

"You love me?"

"Of course I do pet. I always have, since the first moment I laid eyes on you. Hell, since the first time I heard your heart beating from inside your mother's womb."

"What?"

Spike felt his chest constrict painfully, and realized too late, that he probably shouldn't have said that last part. "I knew she was pregnant when I left. I thought you were Riley's for obvious reasons. I was trying to give your mother what I thought she needed. Freedom from me and the space to seek out the man I thought she loved. That's all. I'm sorry. I didn't know I was abandoning you. I thought I was letting Buffy start her own family. If I'd have known, I never would have left. I swear it."

"I believe you," she said matter-of-factly, not a hint of doubt in her voice.

"I'm glad. Makes my life a lot easier."

"So what happened with mom?"

Spike pushed himself away from the bed and started pacing the small room. "We talked. About a lot of things. We still have a lot to work out."

"Have you seen her this morning? She said she'd be here for visiting hours. I thought she would have been here by now."

"She didn't get much sleep last night, so I decided not to wake her. She's had a bad couple of days."

A mischievously suspicious look crossed Willow's face and Spike was quick to interject, "It's not what you think."

"Oh really?" she asked archly. "And what do I think, _dad_?"

Spike wanted to answer, but was struck by that one, simple word, "dad." That was a word he had never imagined anyone would ever say to him. Even though it was said irreverently, it still caught him completely off guard.

"Well?" she prompted.

"Your mum needed a place to sleep last night. That's all. Gave her a hot meal and a roof over her head. No more than any decent man would do for the mother of his child."

"I don't know," Willow said knowingly, "seems to me a hotel would have done just as well."

Spike glowered at her. Did she really have to needle him so? Sometimes she reminded him so much of Dawn, it was scary.

"Anyway," Spike tried to move forward, "she's had a rough go of it and needs some rest. I'm sure she'll be fine in a few hours. Hopefully by then, you'll be out of this godforsaken place."

"And then what?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what happens next? To us?"

"Don't rightly know, pet."

She nodded absently, as if she somehow understood that there was still a lot of ground for him and Buffy to cover. Even so, he wanted to make sure of one thing.

"You know I'm never gonna leave you, don't you? Whatever happens between me and your mum, has nothing to do with you and me. Understood?"

"Yeah, understood. Does this mean you're no longer going to be the Uncle Giles to my Buffy?"

"Your what?" Spike spluttered.

"My Uncle Giles," she said brightly, smiling up at him, somehow knowing instinctively that the comparison was going to piss him off.

"Bloody hell no! I was never the Giles to your Buffy. You're completely off your nut."

"Uh huh."

"You don't believe me?"

"Not particularly." She started examining her cuticles as if she just couldn't be bothered listening to his nonsense.

"I am nothing like Giles. I have never been anything like Giles. Bloody wanker," he mumbled, almost inaudibly.

Willow smiled as she looked up at him again. "All I really want to know is, does this put an end to my career as a vampire hunter?"

"Slayer. Vampire slayer."

"Whatever. So, does it?"

"Not if I have anything to do with it. Don't know how your mum feels about it though. Really didn't get to have any deep parenting discussions last night."

"I'll bet."

Spike gave her a censorious look, but refused to answer. He wasn't taking the bait again. "We'll talk to your mum once you get out of here. Who knows, maybe we'll even convince Buffy the Vampire Slayer to come out of retirement."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Later that night, Buffy sat at the counter in Spike's kitchen, staring across at her daughter and her baby daddy. It was one of the most surreal moments of her entire life.

Buffy had never quite imagined any scenarios like this one; Willow and Spike, sitting her down at what approximated a kitchen table, trying to convince her that it would be just peachy keen if she let Willow continue her slayer training. It was like they were trying to convince her to let Willow go away with friends for a weekend, or have a boy over. It felt oddly ordinary and domestic, and it made Buffy surprisingly uncomfortable. She felt like she was in some kind of alternate universe.

"So, if we don't train her, you really think the vamps are gonna just stop coming?" Spike was saying, as Buffy half listened. "'Cause they're not. Sooner or later, some nasty little thing's gonna try to take another bite out of her, and then what? Better to see her well prepared, then dead, huh?"

"And really," Willow chimed in, the second Spike had finally closed his mouth, "I've already been training with Spike . . . I mean, dad . . . for a month. And I had a whole month before that on my own. Just because I had one little accident, doesn't mean I don't know what I'm doing. Dad said you had plenty of accidents of your own. It's just part of being a slayer, right?"

Buffy raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly at Spike. What the hell was wrong with him? Why was he so dead set on letting Willow be a slayer? She wasn't even a slayer, for God's sake! She was just an ordinary girl. Just because her mother was a slayer and her father was a vampire, didn't mean she had to spend her life fighting vampires. That's not what Buffy wanted for her. She wanted her daughter to be safe and protected; not sacrificed to some impersonal greater good. Buffy had seen too many of her friends fall in the name of righteousness. She didn't want her daughter to be just another victim.

"You're not a slayer," Buffy said matter-of-factly, trying to nip this thing in the bud as quickly as she could.

"Well, maybe I'm not the Chosen One, but Spike . . . I mean, dad . . . says I'm faster than any human girl he's ever seen. And maybe a bit stronger too sometimes. If I really worked on my skills, I'd definitely be able to hold my own."

Willow and Spike both looked at Buffy with hopeful eyes, waiting for her approval. Apparently, they thought their idea was the most brilliant thing in the world. Buffy felt like knocking some sense into both of them.

"You do realize that this isn't a game, right? That next time it might not be just a little accident. You could die," she said somberly, a tinge of anxiety lacing her voice. "I don't want to see anything happen to you. I want you to be happy. I want you to lead a full life. I don't want to see you end up dead in an alley somewhere because you thought it was your duty to fight the bad guys. It's not your duty. You're not the Slayer. I won't stand idly by and watch you throw your life away."

"But—"

"No buts," Buffy said, as she pushed herself up from the stool. "End of discussion."

"But I won't be happy, knowing that innocent people are dying because I was too selfish to try and save them. I could never live with myself."

"Trust me, you learn to live with yourself."

Buffy glanced at Spike. His eyes were intently focused on her face. He seemed pained, as if he almost pitied her. Buffy turned away, unable to bear his scrutiny.

"I don't want to learn to live with it. I want to do something about it," Willow replied. "You may not think this is my duty, but it is. Do you think it was just an accident that I happened to get attacked by my vampire boyfriend and lived to tell the tale? Do you think it was an accident that Spike found me in the alley that night? No. None of it was. This is what I'm meant for mom. It's instinct. It's in my blood and I don't want to fight it anymore. And neither do you."

The air caught in Buffy's lungs and she suddenly found it difficult to breathe. Of course she was sick of fighting it herself, denying who she was, but she had done it for Willow. She had done it because she had thought it was the right thing to do. Now, her 18-year-old daughter was standing there, telling her that it was all for nothing. That she had made the wrong choice. That she should have just told her the truth from the beginning and kept on slaying.

No. Buffy, forced the air out of her lungs. For once, she hadn't made the wrong choice. If she'd continued slaying, she might have been killed, and that would have left Willow a virtual orphan. No, she had made the right decisions at the time. But what about now? What was the right thing to do now?

Buffy slowly turned around to find Willow and Spike watching her intently. "I don't want to see you get hurt," she somehow managed through the lump in her throat.

"I could get hit by a bus the moment I walk out that door. There are no guarantees. But mom, if you let me do this – if you help me, and dad helps me – I'll be prepared for just about anything that comes my way. And that's what I want."

Buffy's eyes flickered to Spike's. She knew this was what he wanted. He had a lot of confidence in Willow, even though he'd only known her for a month. Then again, he had seen her fight and Buffy hadn't. Maybe there was something to this. Maybe she did possess some special abilities inherited from her extra special parents. Before any decision could be made, Buffy had to see for herself.

Buffy crossed her arms over her chest and looked squarely at Willow. "You really want this?"

"More than anything."

"Then you're going to have to prove to me that you can handle it. I want a demonstration."

Willow looked about the room awkwardly. "Here? Now?"

"No." Buffy couldn't help but smile, her stern façade cracking just a bit. "Let's visit your training ground, wherever that is, and you can show me what you've got. If I think you have potential, I might consider allowing you to patrol. Alright?"

Willow nodded her head vigorously, a huge smile on her face.

"Alright then," Buffy said, looking again at Spike, "let's go."

* * *

Buffy hadn't set foot in a cemetery in nearly twenty years. Although Sunnydale was full of them, she always gave them a wide berth, having to consciously resist the temptation to enter.

The moment they entered the cemetery, every nerve in Buffy's body came alive. She inhaled deeply, filling her nose and lungs with the oh-so-familiar scent of fresh ground and decaying corpses. "Ah," Buffy sighed. "Just like being home."

Willow ran ahead of Buffy and Spike, eager to show her mother the patch of ground where they usually set up shop. "Here we are," she said brightly, as she came upon a cluster of tombstones on the far end of the graveyard.

"Is this where it happened?" Buffy asked her. "Is this where you were attacked?"

"Nah," she shrugged it off. "That was a different cemetery. We try to mix it up a bit. Patrolling a different place every night."

That's how it had always been when she and Spike had been out on patrol. Suddenly, she felt jealous of her own daughter. Buffy mentally shook herself, trying desperately not to let it bother her.

And then, before any of them could say another word, all three were instantly alert. A long forgotten scent filled the air and Buffy felt her spidey senses tingling. She knew that Willow and Spike felt it too, just by their change in demeanor. It amazed her that Willow was able to sense whatever it was. Usually only slayers and demons were sensitive to such things.

"Over there," Willow whispered quietly, nodding in the direction of the unseen threat.

"Got it," Spike replied.

The two set off at a casual pace, walking side by side toward the darkened corner of the cemetery. Buffy wanted to join them, but she was too mesmerized. All she could do was watch.

They chatted nonchalantly, as if they weren't out hunting at all. Suddenly, something jumped out at them from behind a tombstone; a vamp. And it wasn't long before they were batting the vampire back and forth between them.

Buffy was amazed at how well they worked together, like a well-oiled machine, like she and Spike used to be. Her heart caught in her chest and unbidden tears stung her eyes. How she missed it. How she longed to be a part of it again.

Before Buffy could stop herself, she sprinted across the grass, reaching Spike and Willow in record time. Without thinking, she pointed to Willow's stake and said, "May I?"

"Sure," Willow replied with a smile. "Have at it."

Buffy grabbed the stake, taking one glorious moment to heft it in her hand, to feel the wood grain against her skin. Then, as Spike held the vampire at bay, she raised the stake and drove it deep into the creature's heart.

Buffy's entire body shuttered with the kind of ecstatic pleasure that she had only thought sex could bring. She inhaled the vamp dust deeply into her lungs, welcoming the slight irritation. God how she'd missed this! How had she ever gone for so long without it? For the first time in nineteen years, she felt alive. Truly and completely alive.

Buffy's eyes fell on Spike. He was smirking at her. He knew, didn't he? He knew what killing that vamp had done to her. It had awakened every part of her. She was sure he could smell her arousal. She wanted him so desperately now, and she could tell that he wanted her. If this had been the old days, he would have just thrown her up against a tombstone and taken her right there. But this wasn't the old days. They had a lot standing between them now . . . well, a lot more than they once had . . . not the least of which was an 18-year-old daughter who was literally standing between them.

"Wasn't that awesome?" Willow exclaimed. "How can you not love this? Killing vampires? Saving countless lives? It's amazing, isn't it?"

"Yeah, amazing," Buffy said absently, her eyes still focused on Spike.

"Well, what do you say? Can I keep training?"

"What?" Buffy wasn't sure she understood the question. For some reason her brain didn't seem to be working properly.

"Can I keep training? Can I patrol?"

"Yeah, sure," Buffy said with a slight wave of her hand. "Go for it."

"Thank you!" Willow squealed, as she threw herself bodily at her mother and nearly squeezed the life out her. Maybe she had slayer strength after all.

Being tackled by her overly enthusiastic daughter, helped bring Buffy back to her senses. She slid her way out of Willow's iron grip and put her at arm's length, so that she could get a good look at her. "You're going to be careful, right?" Buffy asked, putting on her best stern parent voice.

"Of course."

"And you'll do everything your father and I tell you?"

"Absolutely!"

Buffy sighed. She remembered what she had been like at that age. How many times had she defied Giles' instructions because she had thought she'd known better? Just what in the world were they all getting into?

"Alright then," Buffy conceded. "You can keep training and patrolling."

"I told you she could be reasonable," Spike said to Willow.

"Of course I can be reasonable. I'm always reasonable," Buffy protested petulantly.

"Of course you are mom. So," Willow turned to Spike, her voice filled with eager enthusiasm, "where do we go next?"

"You are going home," Spike replied.

"What?" She sounded positively dejected.

"You just got out of hospital. I know you think you feel fine, but you need some time to recuperate. Besides, it's a school night, and I know you have class first thing in the morning."

Willow crossed her arms over her chest and pouted at him. "You never cared about that before."

"Well, I wasn't your father before, was I? I thought you were someone else's brat. What did I care if you flunked out of uni?"

"And now?"

"Now, you're my responsibility and you have to do as I say. You can only patrol if you keep your grades up. If they start to slip, no more training."

Willow's mouth fell open in disbelief and Buffy wanted to laugh. Spike was actually parenting. There's something she'd thought she'd never see.

"But . . . but that's not fair."

"It's perfectly fair, pet. You prove that you can keep up the more mundane responsibilities of your life, and it'll prove to your mum and me that you can handle slaying. Got that?"

"Yeah, I got that."

"Good," Spike said with a sigh, shoving his hands into the pockets of his duster. "Now, why don't we walk you back to the dorms? Call it a night?"

"What about mom?" Willow asked, as the three of them began to walk toward the entrance of the cemetery.

"What about her?"

"Where's she going to stay tonight? With you?"

Buffy's heart seized in her chest. She was afraid to hear Spike's answer.

"Yeah," he replied. "You got a problem with that?"

Buffy's heart started beating again and she was finally able to breathe normally.

"No," Willow answered, with a sly smile. "No problem at all."

Buffy didn't quite like the knowing look in her daughter's eyes. She wished she had as much confidence in the situation as Willow did. Maybe Spike was just bringing her back to his place so he could torture her some more. Buffy wouldn't put it past him.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

It was nearly an hour before they made it back to Spike's apartment. Willow had been eager to show both her parents her dorm room for the very first time, so Buffy and Spike had stayed for the grand tour. Now they were in the hallway, outside his door, and Spike was trying desperately to get the key in the lock. Normally it was an easy task, but with Buffy so close beside him, he couldn't stop his fingers from shaking.

"Need a little help?" she asked, after his third try.

"No, I got it." And somehow he managed to shove the key in the slot and open the door.

He stood back and ushered Buffy inside. He inhaled a sharp breath. Just what the hell did he think he was doing? Why had he brought her back here? Getting close to Buffy again was only going to leave him with a broken heart. Then again, his heart was pretty broken already, and he didn't really think there was any way he could keep himself away from her for much longer. Better to just bite the bullet and get on with it. The distance between them was driving him crazy.

Spike entered the apartment to find Buffy standing in the middle of the room, idly giving the place the once over. She'd seen the whole thing before, so he knew she was just trying to distract herself. Anything to keep from looking at him.

There had been that moment, back at the cemetery, when he had seen her – the real her, the old her – come out for just a second. In that moment, she had been everything he had remembered; alive, vibrant, passionate. He had wanted her so much. If Willow hadn't have been there with them, the deed would already have been done by now and they'd be basking in the afterglow.

Spike reluctantly closed the apartment door. The brief moment of awareness that had passed between them back at the cemetery was gone. Now everything just felt awkward again.

"You did the right thing, you know," Spike began, desperate for something to say.

"You think so?" she asked, finally looking at him.

"Yeah. Imagine if somebody'd told you that you had to stop slaying at that age. You wouldn't have taken it all that well, would you have? It's just better to let her have her way. 'Cause there's no workin' it out of her system. Once a slayer, always a slayer."

"She's not a slayer."

"Might as well be. It's in her blood. It's in yours too."

He heard Buffy's heart rate increase, and he thought she was getting ready to argue with him. But she didn't say anything. She just looked about the room again and changed the subject. "So," she said awkwardly, "what do we do now?"

That was a damn fine question. Spike didn't have a clue. He knew what he wanted to do, but he was afraid; which was absolutely ridiculous, but there it was. He was afraid of opening up to her again, afraid of trusting her, of letting himself believe that she loved him. The thought terrified him. What if he trusted her and she failed him? What if it was all just a lie? Would he be able to live with it? Would he ever be able to recover? He'd spent the last nineteen years trying to cobble together some kind of life for himself. It wasn't much, but at least he had his pride. Could he really let her in again, and risk what little he did have?

"Spike?" she prompted, when he didn't answer. "Are you sure you want me to stay here? I can find a hotel. It's not a problem."

"No, of course I want you to stay. There's no reason not to. You're already here, after all."

"Yeah."

That strained awkwardness came over them again. Why the bloody hell couldn't he just get up the nerve to do what he wanted? Why couldn't he just give himself permission to trust her, the consequences be damned?

"Um, well," Buffy broke the silence, "I think I'm gonna go take a shower then." She looked herself over. "I am completely covered in vamp dust."

"From that one little vampire?" Spike snorted. "That was nothin'."

"That wasn't just one little vampire," she protested. "He was kinda chunky. I must be covered in at least a quart of vamp dust."

"Yeah, whatever." Spike finally moved into the room. Now that they were bantering, teasing each other, it was easier for him to move around. He suddenly felt a lot less self-conscious.

Spike went to the fridge and pulled himself out a packet of pig's blood. He was surprised when Buffy followed him.

"You think I'm getting rusty, don't you? You think I don't know how to slay anymore."

Spike smirked at her seductively, as he looked her up and down. "I think there are a lot of things you don't know how to do anymore."

Buffy's skin turned a shade paler, and Spike's grin grew wider. Ah yes, he'd forgotten how satisfying flirting with Buffy could be.

"I still know how to do lots of things," she countered. "It's just like riding a bicycle. They say you never forget."

"Yeah? Well I saw you tonight at that cemetery, and I'd say, some things you do forget. And if you can't slay anymore, well then you probably can't—"

"Spike."

"What? I was going to say ride a bicycle anymore. Get your mind out of the gutter Slayer."

As soon as he said the word "Slayer," he saw her retreat into herself just a little. Why did she hate that word so? Was she that desperate for him to call her Buffy? Would that single concession really make such a difference between them?

"Well, I guess I'm gonna go take that shower now," she replied quietly, as she turned to walk away.

"Buffy wait."

She stopped, her back still to him. She refused to move.

"I'm sorry Buffy. I'm sorry for keeping you at arm's length. For not letting you in. It's been a helluva nineteen years. Haven't had much reason to trust anyone; least of all you. Just, didn't want to get hurt again, that's all. I'm sorry."

He could see her small form trembling slightly, and all he wanted was to reach out for her and pull her into his arms. She didn't speak. She didn't do or say anything. She just stood there, silently trembling.

"Buffy?"

He heard a racking sob escape her throat, as she finally turned to look at him. She wasn't crying, but her eyes glistened with impending tears.

"I wasn't trying to punish you," he said, "by withholding affection. I was just trying to protect myself. That's all. I love you Buffy. I always have and I always will. It's only you Buffy. It's only ever been you."

Her eyes scrutinized his, searching the depths of his heart and mind for the answer to some unspoken question. "But you don't believe me, do you?" she finally asked. "You don't believe that I love you."

"I wanna believe. More than anything."

Buffy nodded ever-so-slightly. Slowly, she closed the distance between them, never breaking his gaze. When she was mere inches in front of him, she lifted up on her toes and kissed him softly on the lips.

Spike's whole body froze in shock. If she had violently grabbed him, pushed him down on the kitchen counter and mounted him, he couldn't have been more stunned. Buffy had never kissed him like this before.

No. That wasn't true. She had kissed him like this once before. Just once. The day she had realized that he had risked his life to protect Dawn; the day she had come to him as the Buffybot. That day, she had kissed him just like this; as if her heart was overflowing with emotion and she was completely incapable of stopping herself.

Before Spike could regain his composure, Buffy pulled away. She stared up at him with eyes full of love and longing and regret. And for the very first time, Spike believed it. He believed all of it.

Suddenly, there was no doubt anymore. He could see Buffy's soul laid bare before him; nearly twenty years of pain and loneliness reflected in her soft, hazel eyes. He was torturing her by denying her feelings, by holding her at bay. It was eating away at her. The way it had eaten away at him, when their roles had been reversed, all those years ago.

But unlike Buffy back in the day, Spike wasn't full of self-loathing. He had no desire to take out his anger and frustration on anyone. He didn't want to punish Buffy. He wanted to love her. More than anything in the entire world. It was all he had ever wanted.

Before he could respond, Buffy took a retreating step. "Well, I guess that's that," she said, her voice breaking slightly.

She turned to walk away, but Spike couldn't let her go. He reached out his hand and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her back around to face him. A split second later, he pulled her flush against his chest and kissed her passionately.

Buffy seemed startled at first, as if she couldn't quite believe what he was doing. But it didn't take her long to melt into his arms and start kissing him back.

Spike could have spent the rest of his life kissing her. He'd forgotten just how sweet she tasted, how soft her skin was, how seductive her sighs. He was drowning in her all over again, every sense completely consumed by her. All he wanted was Buffy. All he wanted was to prove to her that he still loved her.

Spike didn't know how they made it to the bed. He had absolutely no recollection of the journey. But suddenly, there they were, standing beside it. After she had started kissing him, everything had become an incomprehensible mass of sensation and emotion. Feeling her body pressed against his again, after so long, was achingly painful. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him to just strip her bare and take her, but his heart wanted more. His heart wanted to savor their coming together. It had been too long.

He felt Buffy's hands skimming the flesh beneath his t-shirt, and the next thing he knew, the shirt was lying in a heap on the floor. Feeling her hands against his bare skin did something to him, and before he knew what was happening, they were tearing at each other's clothes.

Spike tore Buffy's blouse in two, rending it right down the middle. She didn't seem to notice or care. She was too busy working his belt open. She was wearing a long skirt and Spike knew all he had to do was push her down on the bed and hike it up around her waist. But that's not what he wanted. He didn't want part of her. He wanted all of her. He fought desperately to keep himself under control. He was harder than he'd ever been in his life – nineteen years of celibacy could do that to a man – but he wanted this to be right. He would hold out for as long as he could.

While Buffy worked the buttons on his jeans, Spike tore her skirt right off her waist. Now, all that stood between him and Buffy were a few flimsy scraps of lace.

Spike felt the last button on his jeans give way, and suddenly Buffy's hand was wrapped around him intimately. Spike let out a hiss of pain and dragged her hand away. "Not yet luv," he rasped through ragged breaths. "I'll never make it."

Buffy willingly relented, running her hands up his chest and pulling him closer, kissing him deeply. Spike allowed his trembling fingers to divest her of the last of her clothing, before he pushed his jeans over his hips and kicked them off his legs.

Now they stood there together naked. Holding each other, caressing and kissing, trying to heal the wounds that had been open for so long. Finally, after all this time, there was nothing between them. They loved each other, and for the very first time, they were going to make love.

Spike pulled back for a moment, trying to give Buffy some time to breathe, but she didn't seem to want any. She kept kissing him, moving her mouth over his chest and his neck, desperate to taste him.

"Buffy wait," Spike said, as he literally put her at arm's length.

She looked up at him, her eyes full of pain and confusion. "Please don't stop," she pleaded. "Please, not now."

"I've no intention of stopping, luv," he said, as he lovingly stroked her hair. "Don't think I could even if I wanted to." He let his eyes drift slowly down her body, her beauty suddenly overpowering him. He quickly looked back into her eyes and recomposed himself. "Before we do this, I just thought you should know that, I do believe you Buffy. I should never have doubted you. I never will again."

And then, before she could answer, he pulled her close again and kissed her. He heard a small, contented sigh escape the back of her throat and his heart swelled with joy. He had waited so long for this. He had honestly never thought it would happen. Now he knew what Buffy had felt when she'd been in heaven, because that was exactly how he was feeling now.

Buffy pulled Spike down onto the bed, never breaking contact. He was instantly overcome by the feel of her beneath him; her long, lithe body stretched out against his. Even though his body was supposed to be room temperature, his skin was on fire. He burned everywhere she touched him.

It was with great difficulty that Spike dragged his lips away from hers and began to scorch a trail of kisses down her body. He suckled at her neck, kissed her breasts, worshiped her skin with his tongue. There was so much of her he wanted to reacquaint himself with. He wanted to take his time, savor every last moment of it, but Buffy wouldn't allow it.

Desperately needy from the attention he was lavishing on her body, she grabbed at the back of his hair, pulling him up to kiss him again. "I want you," she breathed softly against his mouth. "Now. Please."

If there was one thing Spike couldn't resist, it was a plea from Buffy. He let his mouth linger on hers, as he gently pushed apart her thighs and settled himself between them. He felt like he was going to burst, and it took every ounce of his self resolve to keep himself from coming right then and there.

Spike heard her gasp, as he slowly pushed inside. His eyes rolled back into his head and he completely lost himself for a moment, so enraptured by the feel of her surrounding him. She was so hot, so tight. He felt like he had disintegrated into a pile of smoldering ash, the second he had entered her. It took him a moment to regain awareness. When he was fully conscious again, he realized that he was already moving inside her, and that she was moving with equal force against him.

They kept a steady rhythm, neither one wanting it to end. But it had to end. There was no way they could keep this up forever.

Spike inhaled sharply and forced his muscles to relax. He needed to make sure that Buffy found her release before he sought his own. He concentrated on his movements, making sure to put pressure on just the right spot with each thrust of his hips. It didn't take her long to crash over the precipice. And a few seconds later, Spike finally allowed himself his own release.

When their breathing had finally slowed to a normal pace, Spike pushed himself onto his back and gathered Buffy up against him. He could tell that she was on the brink of sleep; her heart rate had slowed and she was snuggled contentedly beside him. He was a little disappointed actually. Leave it to him, to want to talk after making love. What kind of poncey, nancy boy was he anyway?

Spike looked down at Buffy and stroked her hair. He knew the answer, the kind that was in love with Buffy.

Spike leaned down and placed a small kiss atop her head.

Buffy sighed contentedly in response. "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too, pet."

"Buffy. Say, 'I love you too, Buffy.'"

Spike smiled in spite of himself. "I love you too, Buffy."

"Good. Now we go to sleep," she said sweetly, and he remembered all over again why he loved her so much.

Spike tightened his hold on her and finally closed his eyes. It was the best night's sleep either one of them had had in nineteen long years.

END


End file.
